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I sat down at my table one day with a pad of paper and pen. I started to write down all the names of those that I loved, as the warm summer sun filtered in through the curtains. Murray, Sasha, Fernando, Neil... but at the bottom of the list was Word. I sighed, put down my pen, and gave Word a sorrowful look. »I'm sorry, love. But it all comes down to you.« He bolted to his feet, and ran screaming from my hand as I chased him around the surface. »Gotcha!« He screamed futilely as I raised him to my mouth and bit his head off. »Poor Word. Love can be harsh.« I sighed, absentmindedly played with his limbs, and watched the blood stains that speckled the table linen.
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