Genesis 4:2-15*

With the darkness wound around himself like a shroud, he stepped out into the cool of evening. Hungry, as usual.

He thought to himself, once again, of his brother, gone these thousands of years: his smug smile, his cruel slaughter of the innocent beasts, the smell of his blood as it spilt in the desert sand.

Ashamed for the thirst that came and overwhelmed his sentiment every night, he smiled a tight, razor smile. Some vegetarian he’d turned out to be.

*here