The cuckoos cooed, moths fluttered their wings, and the fan squeaked in circles. I was thrown out of the window, and the strong air flow stirred my body. I'm dead, why am I lying in a pool of blood? It was obvious that he should have died in pure white... The knife pierced my heart, it was you, little cuckoo, the cuckoo no longer cries, and the fan no longer rotates.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
