I wish to write something for you.

James McKellan struggled to remember why he was here. Or there. Wherever he was, he couldn't remember why he was. There. There he was. He was on a, a... was that a hillock? Damned if it wasn't. He'd never had a use for the word before, but he was damn proud to've found one now. James smiled and smelled the flowers left on his grave.

-Tyrus Peace