Sometimes we had a laugh, sometimes he didn't feel very good. Then one day in February, I arrived as Amish and his brother William struggled to get him out of the bed. There won't be any fun today. The next morning, William phoned to tell me that Niall died during the night. The cemetery has a lively cruising scene.
Men poke in and out of huge tombs, follow one another, fuck in the stillness of the stone.
We never talked about the scene, but I'm sure that Amish was perfectly aware of it. I peered into the huge furnace as his coffin moved forward on the conveyer belt. The flames licked its sides and it burst into a fireball. I drew away from the intense heat. Nine months later, I left Jeff and Paris.