Our Cemetery for Chronology
We dragged the day out to the firing range at twilight. Early, but it was one of those days we could see from the start wouldn't be a keeper. It went quietly. No thrashing, no pleading, no final, desperate attempt at redemption. Some days are like that. It went quietly.
We buried it in the graveyard of days just this side of the woods. We mark the days with stones and twig, but the markers blow away. I also mark them on a calendar. This Tuesday is the twenty-third day we've killed so far this year -- and it's only April. We agreed that's no good; too many days are dying, but what can you do? I put out a stone-and-twig monument and slashed an X on the calendar in thick black ink. Day 23. Another day shot.