The end is peaceful when it comes. Hardly a shock, but just unexpected enough that there's no countdown. You thank all the deities you can think of, racking your brain, shovelling through to dusty religion lessons back in middle school.

It happens one midsummer evening, with the sky burning pink around the edges.

Your mind burns round the edges too, but it's more a dull red.

His father's there.

"I loved him."
"I know."

You bury him in black, and you want to break the necks of the birds singing. He wouldn't have liked that.