You ask for a cheeseburger, I give you a cheeseburger. You raise it to your lips and take a bite. Your eye twitches involuntarily. Across the street a father of three falls down the stairs. You swallow and look down at the cheeseburger in your hands. I give you a cheeseburger. You swallow and look down at the cheeseburger in your hands. You cannot swallow. There are children at the top of the stairs. A pickle shifts uneasily under the bun. I give you a cheeseburger. You look at my face, and I am pleading with you. The children are crying now. You raise the cheeseburger to your lips, tears stream down your face as you take a bite. I give you a cheeseburger. You are on your knees. You plead with me to go across the street. I hear only children’s laughter. I give you a cheeseburger. You are screaming as you fall down the stairs. I am your child. You cannot see anything. You take a bite of the cheeseburger. The concrete rushes up to meet you. You awake with a start in your own bed. Your eye twitches involuntarily. I give you a cheeseburger. As you kill me, I do not make a sound. I give you a cheeseburger.