My wife and I were trapped deep in the mountains along with the woman I’d loved from afar. She made two kinds of mushroom soup and told me to choose first.
I drank the poisonous bowl and died in the middle of the night. Wild animals dragged my body away and tore it apart.
My wife was simply relieved that her beloved hadn’t gone hungry. The next day, they waited for the rescue team together.
She made a double-sided drum and beat it with bones to celebrate their rebirth after surviving the disaster.
But she didn’t know that the skin and bones belonged to me.
Later, when she found out, she cried until her voice gave out. But I could never come back.
