“I thought I had found it,” he cried. “A good death. A death more glorious than I deserved. I do not understand…. Why am I still here? Why am I still ugly?” His voice was wracked, almost indecipherable. “What reward is this? What punishment?” “I do not know if this is a reward,” Keema said. “Or if it is a punishment. But maybe it is neither.” He pressed his forehead against Jun’s. The heat immense. Alive. “Maybe you are just here.” And here, they found each other.
