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Light-Years in the Dark | StoryPoems


The condemned man smoked a cigarette with his executioner and in the short time they had together they became friends. The subject of blame was never discussed, for neither one held the other responsible. Nor was guilt a commodity they cared to exchange, of little value now, something they chose to bury. They spoke gravely about the past, the killings they had caused, and wondered how it had changed them. It had prepared them for the moment, they decided. An illicit grin escaped from each face before they snubbed out their cigarette and walked away from the mirror in separate directions.