My Eyes Fall Gently Shut

by Emmett Spain

It’s strange the things you think about in the end. I know the odds of survival for a young man in my position are considered to be quite high. The odds for a man my age? Considerably lower. Somewhere in the area of one in one million, I imagine. I can’t help but picture one million men—all decked out in the same preposterously bulky suits—stretched out alongside me, trailing out for mile...

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