Another fuckin' gravestone. Anybody who doesn't think the island's fucking sadistic, at this point, is lying to themselves. It's almost impressive, how efficiently it continues to fuck us all over.

"Who was he?" I ask, sitting down beside him and handing over a lighter. I guess it's a stupid question to ask. The age on the headstone, the dates, the name, the epitaph. But the fact is, I know next to nothing about Chris. I had no idea he had a brother, let alone one who died.