Fiction Story: Kason Taylor.
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear, I wake from my dream startled at the remembrance. Shirt, coat, pant, shoes, hat … Ready for the day. The cold chill from the rain hits me as I pass the threshold of my quarters to the outside world.  My body trembles as I make my way past the others, nervous. They look at me with aspiration, they wouldn’t before. I pass them with regret, I wouldn’t before. A man in a large coat stands at the entrance of where I need to go, he smiles and turns. I tremble while walking past, cold. The farther I walk in, the larger a place it seems. But this is small compared to what we used to have. The third room is my stop but my feet pause at the second. I continue. The room is warm but the two men inside where cold. The first greets me with information. The second sits still in a chair. The first hands me what I need. The second breathes heavily but no words come from his bound mouth. I raise my new item up. This is acceptance. The second man falls, dead. I am congratulated the entire walk back. My bed is comfy. My brain beats louder than my heart. My hand raises to reverse the small wooden frame. The second man's face is hidden, out of site. But the memory will never fade, out of mind.