Wherein I almost snap out of it.

A fiction suggesting a Resolution has been found, and occasion to reflect that paradoxes are easily misplaced.

He looks out the window.

He looks out the window.

He looks out the window.

He.

The establishing shot pulls back to reveal a guy looking out a window.

This guy is loo-

He is pale-blue, having been stabbed repeatedly by a ---

The camera is pointing at a guy who looks like he's looking out a window, but has in fact bled to death, aided in this grisly endeavor by the 5 or so inches of calligraphy pen that's torn a jag into his femoral artery.

When searching for Good Intentions, it's usually a good idea to return to the place where one last had them and start from there.

Hm.

The camera, it's unwavering eye fixed on tragedy, is one of six - two overheads and two cameras on dollies are congregated a ways away from the body, glancing at tile floor and corrugated ceiling and wasting tape amongst themselves but otherwise silent. The remaining camera is looking in a mirror, an inch away from itself and whirring in and out of focus.

We, on the other hand, have seen this one before, which is why we changed the channel. To Animal Planet, actually. I wanted to see some lions.

But, bored with the premise, you-

But, bored with the premise, I-

But, bored with the premise I've-

But, having exhausted all possible outcomes for these thoughtless, plotless suggestions of time, place, space, and populous, God -

But anyways.

"Don't ever stop doing what you're doing.

    ...shoot your shot."