M T M

Clear as his two steaming jailers, he saw her twisted form, moving ever so slightly in the moment before absolute death. A second playing on an endless loop, his wife shifting into silence, a shiver almost too small to see, and now he was condemned to see it always.

Such was the energy of the scene, every surface gleamed with disgrace, wet plates and dust covered glasses, all crying in silent worship of their deathly beautiful figurehead.