Posterity

Henry Killbride was supposed to have been posthumously famous. He was fixed on the idea of posterity.

After his literary breakthrough was penned that stormy night in Poughkeepsie, he devised a noose with duct tape and hanged himself from a naked pipe in his bathroom. The tape was the color of soot, or charcoal, or deeply tarnished silver. It snapped only seconds shy, allowing for a bruised skull from the rim of the toilet.

If only he had used a rope.

If only he had left the seat down.