Best Served Cold

by Joe Abercrombie

“If you’re a good man, and you try to think about what the right thing is every day of your life, and you build things to be proud of so bastards can come and burn them in a moment, and you make sure and say thank you kindly each time they kick the guts out of you, do you think when you die, and they stick you in the mud, you turn into gold?” “What?” “Or do you turn to fucking shit like the rest of us?” He nodded slowly. “You turn to shit, alright. But maybe you can leave something good behind you.” She barked empty laughter at him. “What do we leave behind but things not done, not said, not finished? Empty clothes, empty rooms, empty spaces in the ones who knew us? Mistakes never made right and hopes rotted down to nothing?” “Hopes passed on, maybe. Good words said. Happy memories, I reckon.” “And all those dead men’s smiles you’ve kept folded up in your heart, they were keeping you warm when I found you, were they? How did they taste when you were hungry? They raise a smile, even, when you were desperate?” Shivers puffed out his cheeks. “Hell, but you’re a ray of sunshine. Might be they did me some good.” “More than a pocketful of silver would’ve?” He blinked at her, then away. “Maybe not. But I reckon I’ll try to keep thinking my way, just the same.” “Hah. Good luck, good man.”