“And so Ikne walked away from his idyll and got a job sharpshooting for the Perambuco guerrillas in Salvador. It wasn't an easy life, and one day he got shot in the stomach by a lead bullet. The bullet fell in love with him, of course, but she couldn't stop the slow bleed of his gastric cavity into his pancreas, and she felt terrible, which was too bad, since he'd known all along what would happen.
He died; he always said he would.
Someone had to take out the bullet.”
―
Alaya Dawn Johnson,
The Summer Prince