Flies circle his head like a black halo, lay their eggs near the bullet lodged in the meat of his brain.
Scattered among the trampled blades, like broken pottery— fragments of skull. Before the colonel gave the order to advance, he pinned a note to his uniform.
My name is Jonathan Victor and I love my mother.
He imagined her proudly smiling as the morning sun darted off the golden buttons that adorned his blue coat.