The exercise:
I'm just going to give you the title for today's piece: Death of a butterfly. Go with it where you will.
Mine:
Fluttering furiously, unable to achieve flight with just one wing but too stubborn to stop trying. Who has done this to you?
A bird, a cat... I guess it doesn't matter; it has been done and now here we are at the bottom of the steps in front of my home. And now the questions come: what should I do; what can I do; are you in pain; should I stop your suffering; would that be mercy or cowardice?
I don't know if the end I would bring would be kinder than a more natural one. I do know that standing witness to your plight helps neither of us.
I cannot choose between life and death so I choose instead to leave, hoping that when I return the choice will be taken out of my hands - either by your leaving or by your departure.
I have returned and your struggle has ceased. I look down at your torn, still body and pray. I pray that you've found peace. I pray for your forgiveness.
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