Though plans, of any sort, are never completely formed, their intentions can always be carried through.
On the day of my personal apocalypse, I was ready to perform all the tasks needed of me to convince the world of my death. The fact is: things could have changed at any time. Some one could have kept me hostage, suspecting me of psychological disturbance. Maybe some mystical event, some unthinkable occurrence, could have disturbed my plan by convincing me of the goodness of life. As it were, I did nothing but sip my coffee and have my cigarette in the morning, knowing as I did so that it was the last time I’d look through the smoke to my window, and through my window to the sun bearing down on the world below.
I got dressed in a brown cotton suit and went downstairs.
On the co...
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