Erica,
I made a mistake. I’ve made… a lot of mistakes.
I’m alive though. I’m alive and I will do my best to come back to you and our child. I won’t be able to stay, I could never do that to you- but I promise I will come back, and I will be doing my damndest to be able to come back in the future and stay.
I love you.
Yours,
Forever
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The morning after Ghost paraded his hand around. He didn’t say a word as he packed books upon books in tiny leather bags. He didn’t need to. The second Malakai saw the open cut on the fat boy’s hand he knew enough.
It was true. The bond was real, not a hallucination, not an impossibility. It was heart shatteringly real.
They left the same night.
Ghost filled the journey with talks and stories. Fairy tale stories where everything has a happy ending.
None of it was real, none of it stuck.
And now, they sit at the foot of Demsen. Low on rations, backs aching from hefting heavy books all the way through the wastelands. But they made it. They were alive, skinnier, starving, and different. But alive.
Ghost is a smaller boy now, murky brown hair with light blue eyes. Fat cheeks, but wiry frame. He drowns in the black cloak, similar to how the child would drown in the cloak. He peeks up, offering a bright smile as he says, “And here we are. Home sweet home, right?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He doesn’t need to.
Malakai rarely replies. Eyes sitting on the monster warily as he watches the boy trot forward.
“You coming Midnight?” The words ring out, undeniably joyful and happy. “I have a place we can stay at. Not too big of a jump, just down the street some ways.”
It’s dark, the sun not even peeking over the mountains yet. Malakai shuts his eyes, imagines something else- anything else- and follows the little monster that controlled the strings to his fate.
“It’s not a really- It’s quite shabby really. All I could afford,” The face shifts for a second, skin darkening and eyes flashing green before settling back to their pale blue. It’s something Malakai starts to notice, his form shifting with certain words- as if trying to go to the correct form to match the words. “but it’s home. There’s a bakery too! Not that it is up and running, after all we’ve been gone for a minute but…”
A soft smile erupts on the boy’s face, something pure and happy and Malakai’s stomach revolts at the wrongness. “Don’t worry. I should still have the keys, somewhere.”
“Where are we going?” His throat hurts, a frozen ache that has yet to thaw.
“I told you, home.” The monster pauses to look back, eyes narrowing as if he could understand Malakai without the man talking. He can’t. There’s no way he could. Malakai clenches his right hand, he can barely feel the skin cracking.
“And after that… Well, we’ll see I guess.” Ghost offers a shrug, voice high and worriless. He waves a hand, the left one that still has the scab from the cut. It’s enough for Malakai to bite his tongue, teeth finding themselves in the familiar dents from before.
Silence consumes before Ghost shatters it once again, “We’ll probably head east. Maybe near that one town- Mavinsport? There’s a research facility there and… I need to verify something first.”
Malakai pauses, head jerking up before he blurts out, “Avelton.”
“What?” Ghost pauses, slowing down to look back at Malakai.
“I- There’s-“ He doesn’t know, but Erica is there. Erica. He could go home, it’s so close. They could- They could-
But-
Ghost close to Erica was heart stopping. He could feel his blood freezing in his veins at the mere thought of the monster close to his wife. His child. They should avoid it like the plague, he should make sure the serial killer goes nowhere near his family.
Ghost is… not harmless, but not exactly threatening. The killer doesn’t even seem to think about things. Easy smiles and babbling words. A monster under a façade, but someone who sat in the middle of wastelands and talked about families and happiness with the most besotted look on his, her, face.
It’s a lie.
Malakai knows it’s a lie, the monster destroyed the very families he spoke of. He dismantled and threw them away as if they were nothing. But, when the winds howled around them and monsters cried out from the Qleehl Malakai was forced to listen.
To watch.
Once, he had asked the monster, “Why?”
It was an older man this time, gray hair and wrinkled skin and he stared at Malakai and said, “Because sometimes, you panic. There’s adrenaline rushing through your veins and you don’t think. Sometimes, it’s easier to do something than it is to not.”
Malakai never asked again.
Ghost always talked about different things, happier things. A cat called Midnight, a daughter called Annita, a wife called Elaine, a brother called Riozar.
It was easier to not think about those stories. Those little fairy tales that the serial killer created and portrayed. Malakai could never figure out what was real and what wasn’t, he could just match the faces to the stories as they popped up.
“Why Avelton?” They’re still walking, this slow pace amongst melting snow and sleeping buildings.
Malakai doesn’t dare to speak. Words flutter at the tip of his tongue, begging to be released. He just wants to go home and pretend none of this is real but going home means bringing Ghost with him and-
That’s a risk he doesn’t want to take.
“Nothing- Don’t worry about it.” The words are like frostbite, nipping straight to the point of things.
Ghost simply hums, picks up his pace and throws out, “We can stop by Avelton on the way.”
It’s the opposite of what Malakai wants to hear. Part of him, some minuscule part is ecstatic. The rest of him, well. He closes his eyes for a second and he just sees gravestones. Another funeral. His house empty and forsaken. It tastes sour, bitter.
The house Ghost brings them to is more like a two story store. The first level is a bakery, cobwebs attached to chairs and a faded menu above the counter. There’s stairs right by the counter and that’s where the house is. If you could call such a shabby place a house. An apartment really.
There’s one bed, a couch, a broken fridge and the table has neat little stacks of paper.
Ghost shifts for a second, green eyes narrowing as his eye brows dip low. There’s a scowl replacing the smile and then just as quickly he’s back to the perky boy that led them to the house, “We probably can’t stay long. Just a night or two? Wouldn’t want to get caught.”
The monster tosses his bags on the couch before browsing through the stacks of paper. “Do you happen to have any money? I’m afraid I’m on the poor side.” He doesn’t even pause his perusal as he spits out the words.
Malakai watches for another second before dropping his load next the other bags on the couch and then he goes further into the little apartment. It’s small, one bedroom with a bathroom attached. The mirror is broken, bits of glass all over the counter and a bit of blood tainting the slivers.
Empty. Blank. Not really a home, not like how Ghost made it sound when he talked about it. There was nothing warm and comforting about it. The entire place was this empty black hole drenched in a consuming sadness. By the bed there’s a picture of a wedding, the glass broken and the picture stained.
Malakai peeks through on the drawers. It’s nothing comforting, an emptiness surrounded by bleak reality. There’s a ring in the nightstand drawer.
“You could have at least said, well no, I don’t have any money. Thank you for asking. Manners. It’s not that hard.” Ghost leans against the doorframe, watching as Malaki noses through someone’s belongings. Malakai is certain it’s not actually Ghost’s belongings, but a victim. Yet another victim.
“Whose house is this?” It doesn’t matter, but a small part of him thinks it does. It’s another funeral, another empty home and one more torn apart family. He closes his eyes, breathes. It doesn’t matter.
“Mine.” Ghost shifts, fat cheeks, brown hair, green eyes. The one with the lake. The one at the lake. Malakai remembers the magic, the lack of body. He’s pretty sure he knows what happened. There’s a ring in the drawer. There’s no one else. Ghost told him a story once, but he doesn’t remember how it went.
There were too many that followed afterwards.
“Are you any good at stealing?” There’s a smile on Ghost’s lips, eyes crinkling before he shakes his head, “Don’t answer. Stupid question. You’re with the CME. Of course you don’t steal. That’s a crime punishable by death for nephlims.”
Malakai blinks at him, broken hands curling in on themselves as he waits.
It’s cold in the little apartment. The air frozen and still. It’s nothing like the wastelands though, warm compared to the frigid winds that tore through them every time they started moving. Malakai missed his horse when they were walking. The 3 day journey on horseback was more like a week or two of walking.
That’s a lot of time to spend in the company of a killer.
“You should go to sleep. We’ll need to get moving in a few hours, see what we can scrounge up.” Ghost isn’t even looking at Malakai anymore, gaze soft and lost as he stares at the nightstand. It’s not the gaze of a killer.
Malakai shuts his eyes, turns away and lets himself forget the monster in the doorway. It’s an easy feat, one made easy of days and days of constant companionship.
Ghost vanishes by the time Malakai drags himself into the dusty bed. He doesn’t tuck himself under the covers, doesn’t dare to move a single thing. Instead, he lays down in his cloaks and boots and gloves. The ceiling is this dark expanse, little bumps here and there and there’s a huge stain in the right corner.
Sleep ambushes him between one heartbeat and another.
There’s no dream, there’s nothing except a small hand reaching out to jostle his shoulder. A soft voice buzzing about as it says, “Midnight? Midnight, time to go. Wake up.”
Ghost hovers above Malakai, bright blue eyes flickering between the pale blue and a deep brown. “Midnight.” Ghost gestures, cocking his head to the side as his form swings from the energetic boy and Nia.
Malakai blinks, hand rubbing at his forehead as if easing a headache. The gloves are thick, cold leather scrapes across his skin and there’s a moment where Malakai is tempted to remove the hefty thing but then he remembers and-
Well.
Leather was better than the unwelcome rot on his hand.
“Come on.” It seems she settled on Nia, the face blending back to the older woman. She smiles, always smiling. Malakai would never understand how such a killer could smile all the time. How could she be happy or have any semblance of happiness.
He lets her drag him off the bed. She’s careful not to touch him after the initial jostle, this careful movement around him as she rushes him out of the apartment.
It’s bright. Not a cloud in the sky as the sun shines overhead. The snow is still melting on the sidewalk, an ugly gray color after days of use.
Ghost still looks like Nia, offering a little hum as she smiles and stands tall. “First stop is to get money. We aren’t going to last long without it. Any suggestions?” She doesn’t even look at him, already taking a step forward to walk in whatever direction she deems fit.
It’s like working with Mihr, a bit. Having someone that just walks in a direction without guidance. The sweet taste of the killer’s magic lingers, empty of everything but the taste itself.
“Ah, why am I even asking you? You don’t know. Unless you’d be up to going to the bank? But… no, that wouldn’t work.” Malakai follows the chatter box like a dog on a leash. His shoulders hunch over as he shoves gloved hands in the pocket of his coat.
“Could always offer manual labor or something. Or, do you have anything you could trade? I sold my last bit of jewelry back in NorDale so I’m fresh out of supplies.”
There’s a police station, lanterns dim as people bustle about. Malakai gives it a passing glance, wishing that was his job rather than being a tracker for the CME. There’s papers stuck to the glass, some about a missing dog or cat and then-
Big black letters spell out MISSING. Underneath is a black and white picture of the fat man. Patrick Ateese.
Malakai freezes, staring at the face he’s seen so many times on the monster. Ghost takes a few steps before stopping to stare at Malakai. Her face morphs, biting at her lower lip as her brows dip low and she says, “He was going to die anyways.”
Malakai chokes, stomach doing summersaults before he closes his eyes. Takes a step, opens them and doesn’t spare the police station another glance. Ghost waits a second before turning around and announcing, “We should probably see if we can snag some breakfast. Oh, I’d love to have an omelet. With cheese and bacon? Nothing like the shit Ivory left for me. My husband- well.”
“Wouldn’t we need money first.” He’s not sure he could eat. Not with the way his stomach is twisting in on itself as if it’s an acrobat.
“Yes, yes. But that’s the details. We should live a little. We’ve got weeks to worry about details. Weeks I tell you. Do you know how far Mavinsport is from here? I’ve already- well.” She laughs, this croaking little thing before flashing a smile Malakai’s way.
It’s a reminder is what it is. Not a threat, just a slip of Ghost’s tongue. As if Malakai could forget that she was already on the east coast just a month ago. “Not in a rush this time?”
“No. No. Not really. I’m so close, you see? Rushing now would just cause things to fall apart. The only reason I- well. I.” She pauses her words, as if thinking them through before speaking. It’s odd, with how rare she does that. Usually words just spill out like a waterfall. As if there’s nowhere else for the words to go but out. “Ivory told me she had some books that could be of use.”
Malakai just follows, not a word escaping his frozen throat. Ivory was… someone. He’s not sure if she was actually dead or alive. If she was one of the faces he didn’t know about; one of the ones that flicker before Ghost settles on another.
“Actually, I have an idea. You stayed at a hotel last time, right?” Ghost stops, twirling around on the ball of her foot. Her head is cocked, brown eyes wide. Malakai freezes, his entire body icing over as her attention focuses on him.
“Yes.” The word is a croak, barely loud enough to be heard but Ghost smiles anyways.
“Which one? We can probably get food there, you can say… I don’t know. Something with the CME. They won’t ask questions here, I-“ Her face pinches for a second, “I never saw any CME in this town before, and they were kind of panicking over you guys coming by. Plus, if Death told them you were dead we could probably guilt them into offering us some of their breakfast worst case scenario.”
Death. That’s-
No one would look at Mihr and think Death. No one that didn’t know anyways. It was another impossibility tacked onto everything else. Malakai swallows ice, feels it ripping his throat as the words spill out, “Death? How do you know him?”
Ghost blinks at him, wide innocent eyes that weren’t even hers. “I… Someone, worked with him. Well. Not with, but we had to call him? The little dead boy, right? Gives me the creeps whenever I see him.” She even gives a false shake, a timid smile falling onto her lips before she says, “C’mon. Food. Hopefully warm food. Eggs, bacon, maybe even ham. Think of it.”
Malakai stares at the concrete sidewalk, as if it could possibly have any of the answers to his questions. It doesn’t, the frozen slab just offers a pathway to somewhere else. He’d rather be anywhere else, with anyone else. Even Mihr with his rot.
Ghost killed someone from the CME before.
They don’t have records of that. Ghost had only killed the odd body here and there, hookers or the homeless. The occasional mother or father, sometimes a dear husband or wife. They have no records of the child she killed, or the CME member.
It’s frightening.
To think of how many people they missed. How many people the monster killed and they don’t even know about.
Patrick was missing after all. Missing. Not dead.
Unless Malakai reports it, the man will always be missing. Maybe they’ll count him as a suspected deceased but there will be no proof. Just another face amongst the many faces Ghost has.
“Midnight?” She acts so innocent. Friendly. Like sitting next to him with a fire lit in front of them. Like telling fantasy stories that she may or may not have made up. Sometimes there is a childlike innocence in her, something sweet.
It’s unnatural.
“It’s-“ His voice hurts, the vibration tearing apart old wounds that he’s forced to swallow around. “I don’t remember the name. An old Inn, not too far away from the maid road.”
“Ah, we can try Harbors Inn first then? I think that’s the closest one.” She gives a nod before turning around and heading off.
Malakai follows like a shadow, dogging her every step as he hunches into himself. It’s a sight, he’s sure, to see a six foot person following like an obedient puppy to someone that’s half a foot smaller. Not worse than following Mihr around though.
Harbors Inn ends up being the Inn Malakai and Mihr had booked. It’s a small place, a fireplace in one corner with couches splayed about in front of it. There’s an old man at the counter who perks up as soon as the door opens. “Hello! Welcome to- Mr. Lanerri! I thought- Your friend said you died.”
The old man just stares at them with wide eyes, frozen in spot as he watches them. Ghost isn’t even phased, she just walks up with a bright smile and says, “Ah, misunderstanding. See, he- brave man that he was- went after that awful little serial killer and. Well, he didn’t find who he was looking for, but he found me. See, I got lost a bit ago. Dog ran away, you see?”
The old man doesn’t even blink, eyes focusing entirely on Malakai who shuffles behind the monster. “I was…”
He could say something. Say, hey the serial killer is right in front of you. He could give off a warning, just as he could have ran away earlier but didn’t. The cut flickers in his mind like a ghost. He could, and then once the CME gets word Ghost would be back on the chopping block.
The letters burn into his side from the pocket they are stuffed in. A reminder, as much as anything is.
“We haven’t eaten for a while, and all of my coins are gone. I was hoping we could snag a meal before I contact the CME?” He can’t smile. His face a sheet of ice as the lies scrape across his tongue. It’s bitter in a way most things aren’t.
“Ah- Yes, yes. Of course. Do you need me to contact anyone? There’s a nurse a few houses over that I can fetch?” The old man gives a nod, stepping out from behind the counter. He approaches them with stilted steps, one leg lagging before the other and he gives a soft smile, “I’m happy you made it back alive. Barely anyone does- not with the wastelands. To easy to get lost.”
“No nurse will be needed, I’ve got a dab hand at healing myself so no issues.” Ghost just beams, not even hesitating to let the words float into the air. Malakai’s hands burn, as if there was a fire mere inches away melting the rot. It’s not an actual burn, it’s never been an actual burn. How can something burn when you can’t feel anything?
“Good, good. If you will, follow me? We don’t have anything extravagant, but there’s tea and some pastries left over.” The old man gestures to a door by the fireplace, “Breakfast ended an hour ago so we’re cleaning everything up right now, but there should be a little bit left.”
“Oh,” There’s a string of disappointment in that sigh before Ghost goes, “that’s fine. Anything is appreciated. Thank you, truly.”
Malakai follows like a shadow as the old man leads them to the door. On the other side there’s a counter with a kettle and few edible items scattered about. A few tables litter the room with chairs tucked in tight. Candles rest on either end of the counter and on every table, bathing the room in a soft amber light.
There’s a lady sweeping the floor, she peeks up to watch them before saying, “We aren’t serving anymore.”
“No, it’s fine Matillda. They just got back from the wastelands, and this one,” The old man pats at Malakai’s shoulder, “is with the CME.”
Matillda stares at them before shrugging, “Just don’t make a mess.”
Malakai waits, tense as the old man laughs, “I’m sure they won’t.” Ghost offer a hum of agreement before the man turns and adds, “Now, if you guys need anything. Please let me know. I- The CME does great things for us, it’s the least I could do to help one of their agents.”
Malakai makes a choked noise, vocal cords unable to make a single sound because that’s a lie. He’s letting a serial killer run loose, free. Ghost could do anything and Malakai wouldn’t do a damn thing. And the old man is thanking him. Ghost doesn’t hesitate, “We truly appreciate it. And don’t worry about Mr. Lanerri, I’ll make sure he gets back to the CME safe and sound.”
There’s that laugh again, the old man’s face lighting up before nodding and saying farewell.
Matillda doesn’t even glance at them as they pick their seats. Ghost scurries over to the counter, grabbing three pastries before she plops down in the seat. “Would you like one?” She offers one of the apple turnovers, hand outstretched as she bites into the other apple turnover.
Malakai stares at the offered pastry for a second before grabbing it. He probably should have taken off the glove. Most definitely should have, there’s glaze on the leather now. But then-
He hasn’t looked at his hands since they left the cabin in the middle of the Qleehl. Disgusting, he’s sure- but he’d rather have soaking wet leather than stare at his rotting hand. Ghost handed him two books on frostbite when they left, he had put them in his bag and didn’t look at them again.
He probably should. Or at least-
He should at least try.
“Hey, uh-“ Ghost falters, her voice hanging before she gestures to her face. “Do you want me to get a napkin?”
Malakai blinks at her, hand frozen in the air with the apple turnover. Ghost simply stares with wide brown eyes before gesturing to her face again, “Your nose?”
It’s reflex, matching her gesture with one of his own. His left hand touches his nose and when he looks down he can see blossoming red on black leather. It’s an afterthought, that his nose is damp. Then he wonders if he can taste the copper flavor with the sweet pastry.
“Napkin?” Ghost grabs a napkin and offers it again. Malakai just stumbles into grabbing it, holding it close to his nose as h leans slightly back and-
It figures.
“Is that… normal? Are you prone to nosebleeds? I just- I haven’t noticed.” Ghost rambles, grabbing another napkin just in case. As if he might bleed and bleed and bleed.
He might.
His mind is an empty wasteland with the stillness of the Qleehl.
“No.” His voice is muffled, but the word slips out easy. Nothing holds it back. Suddenly, Ghost isn’t the most terrifying thing there is. “I’ve never had a nosebleed before.”
“It’s probably the climate. You know, cold- winter. I heard this area makes the easterners prone to odd symptoms. Like nosebleeds.”
Malakai stares at the ceiling and all he can think is that it’s not the climate.
The rest of breakfast slides by without him noticing. He keeps reaching up to touch his nose and Ghost confiscates a handful of napkins as if that would help. Matillda just eyes them warily as they escape.
The winds have picked up again, frigid torrents tearing through the streets. Malakai wraps his coat tighter against his frame, broken hands clutching at the thick fabric. Ghost doesn’t even pause, she just charges out into the wind as she calls out, “Come on, it’s so nice out here!”
Malakai just hunches over more, lips thin and pressing tightly into one another. She peeks at him and laughs, “It’s really not that bad. Like, a wee bit cold- but that’s it. C’mon. We have coins to find!”
He closes his eyes for a split second before sighing. It feels like defeat when he takes a step to follow her. His entire being just seems to deflate and give up. As if there’s nothing left to fight. He touches his nose, wondering if it is damp again or if his mind is playing tricks on him.
Probably the latter.
“I’m thinking, maybe we could stop by the police station. Aiden- Well. He’d- No. I keep forgetting.” The monster glances back at him, eyes crinkling as she tells him, “I’m very forgetful.” She says it as if it is a joke. As if he should laugh and tease her and-
Maybe if he was forgetful he would.
He’s not though and he doubts he ever will forget who she is. What she is.
It’d be easy too though, with how she acts. When she sticks to one form, it’d be so easy.
Ignorance is bliss, they say.
Their walking past Dangerous Drink when suddenly someone calls out, “Malakai?”
He stops, dirty snow clinging to his boots. Ghost takes a few steps before realizing he stopped and then she turns.
“Malakai? Is that- I was-“ They reach to touch his arm and suddenly Malakai can move. His entire being shatters as he turns and-
Kate. That’s her name, Kate Evanine. He worked with her a few times, not for any criminals but for searching for clues. Finding answers to mysterious events. She would record and report, everything and anything and if there was high traces of magic they’d call a tracker. Malakai preferred those kinds of jobs than the tracking of criminals.
“Ah-“ He licks his lips. This is a mistake.
“Mihr reported that you died.” Kate finally says, large blue eyes beseeching an answer. Ghost steps closer, an odd smile curling on her lips.
The air is sweet. Such a soft sweetness.
“It was- He-“ The words choke Malakai, clogging his throat and preventing anything from escaping. There was so much he could say, so much he should say. I found Ghost. Ghost is here. He can’t though. Ghost creeps up, sneaking her arm into one of his as she raises a hand,
“Hi, I don’t believe we met? I’m Nia.”
Kate barely gives her a glance before staring at Malakai again, “What happened? Because Mihr said you went into the wastelands after Ghost.”
I did. I did and I found Ghost. Malakai opens his mouth, throat convulsing around the lies and the truths and he can’t breathe. His lungs scream, widening and begging for something as he just stands there. Shattered bits of himself keeps falling into the dirty snow to be lost forever.
“Oh, yes. That-“ It’s Ghost again, persistently there. Malakai’s flesh crawls, the coat burning where she presses against it. “He did, thankfully he didn’t get very far, but he found me and we were able to get back. All in one piece. We were just about to contact the CME actually-“
Kate finally stares at Ghost.
Malakai waits for everything to fall apart. For him not to be the only thing that shatters. Ghost stays stubbornly in one piece, cocking her head to the side and smiling a soft smile that doesn’t actually belong to her.
Kate swallows, looks up and then gives this aborted nod as she says, “Ah. Yes. I-“ Another glance at Ghost and Malakai can feel it. Everything piecing together slowly in her mind like a puzzle. “What’s your name again?”
Ghost blinks at her, releasing Malakai’s arm to reach out with an open hand. “Nia.”
It’s horribly sweet, a clinging sweetness. Malakai can’t breathe as it fills the air.
Kate hesitates, eyes flashing between the two before offering a timid smile and saying, “And your last name? For- I just need to inform the CME.”
Malakai doesn’t even look at Ghost. He doesn’t need to, he can already feel it. The magic builds, overpowering in its taste and all Malakai can hear is, the CME can’t know. They can’t.
He doesn’t need the magic to figure out Ghost’s solution. He doesn’t need to hear the monster’s soft, “Oh. Well, I’m Nia Janne.” He doesn’t need to see Ghost grab Kate’s hand.
It’s quick, what happens.
A shift faster than the eye can see and suddenly Ghost is the tall man with the scars and he’s got a hand wrapped around Kate’s mouth. Kate’s eyes bug, darting back and forth and-
Malakai worked with her. Several times. She was a bit cold hearted at times, but she joked around and laughed and she was, or at least a year ago she was, dating some guy called Evan. Or Devin. He couldn’t remember for the life of him.
It’s sour now, the magic, creeping up into the sweetness and corrupting it. A horrible sour filled with guilt and apologies.
Kate’s body crumbles to the ground a second later.
Right by the alley way the first girl died in.
It’s quiet, horribly quiet. The silence suffocating and Malakai just watches.
Ghost simply looks up, peeks around as if he’s just realizing that they weren’t hiding. There’s a shrug and then,
“We need to hide the body.”
The body.
Because now there is a body.
So they hide the body, and bits and pieces of Malakai fall into the dirty snow to be lost forever.
Because now there is a body.
“Just think, we don’t need to worry about coins anymore.”
