Everything boils down to this.
It always does.
When it does, it is about as pleasant as black and putrid bile.
allowed to touch.
This is one way it spreads.
It is still there when that boy grows to adulthood.
Now he sits on his knees upon the sidewalk he calls home with a needle in his arm.
It is with him on that sidewalk.
It is within the needles content.
It is her husbands brothers rapid flow of blood within his dagger of flesh that pierces her.
It is in his hunger and momentary satisfaction of having conquered his brothers most valued prize.
Inside the bullet for his brother.
It is in her voice as she begs and pleads to deaf ears.
It is in the way he watches her life force slip away.