a beat passes as ken considers what he wants to say, what he’s here for. the last several weeks have been difficult, having unearthed letters from his mother in her old jewelry box, letters to his father in their youth. in his own life, he’d never seen his mother use such tender words towards his dad, no, she saved those for ken. now they were both dead. they were both dead and he’d fried them up and shit them out long ago. he taps his fingers on the table in front of him and gives a wry smile, sick to his stomach. “ my little sister once pointed out to me that these few stars made the shape of an ass in the sky. i haven’t been able to find it by myself. look out for it. it’s gotta be up there somewhere. ”












