Today, I traded a dream for a lesson.

The first bullet entered my chest in the middle of my ribs on the lefthand side. It may have pierced my heart. The pain was intense. The last thing I heard was my wife telling me "she had met someone else". I believe that projectile ricocheted off a rib, ripping through other vital organs, before exiting my right hip. It seemed an age before the next round of automatic fire completely obliterated my lungs, liver, kidneys and lower intestines. I was still standing somehow, but it was not long before my legs gave way, just like my marriage had done moments before.

Despite my psychophysical injuries, I am in a stable condition, hooked up to a constant intravenous of Marvin Gaye. He is love morphine if you ever find yourself in my situation. There is no pain he has not wrapped his sublime vocal around. Friends visit and I see their lips moving, but the questions all have answers in my head that were answered many times over the years. I knew I shouldn't have married her when her wedding kiss made my soul shiver.

I gave her all the love I had though. A sick part of me is almost happy that she might now be happy. Only love could react that way.

Prognosis is positive.

This is a true story.

Your faithful correspondent,

Mr. Hare

(At least I get to keep my name).