Set a place for Mr Eaten

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He will not come. From time to time you will direct remarks at the empty chair on your left hand. This wine is fine. Let us dispose of it. Yes, we are thirsty. So rare, this veal! Its juices run down your chin like rain...

Locked with Marsh-Mired in Dreams of Sustenance


A solitary dinner?

Yes, my dear, yes; the process will be completed, and nothing shall be well. You were consumed, were you not? […] When It opens, the pain will be more ambitiously distributed. We will go South before we go North, but we will go North. […]

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