How do I explain the sudden occurence of so many strange coincidences and fortuitous events, as plentiful as the daffodils bursting out all over the place? Is there some planetary explanation, some wrinkle in universal matter that is causing these inexplicable echoes, showers of deja-vu, ghost images that linger a few seconds too long, becoming convincingly real. And all of those leaky coffins, their restless inhabitants seeping out through the cracks and up into the tall grass. I see them everywhere, dim-witted slow-moving souls shuffling at the edge of vision. Hiding in the bright sunlight, or beneath the hood of my car.
My flag is planted in the skull of my enemy, but it flies at half-staff.