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Summary
This was what Nikolai wanted. Fyodor Dostoyevsky was dead. Nikolai was free. Truly free. Free from his own human emotions, free from earthly attachment, free from friendship… so why did he feel this way then? As he held his dear Fedya’s hand in his as he had done so many times before, he felt his smile fade like the warmth from the now dead skin.
Or: Nikolai is confused by his emotions in the wake of Fyodor’s death and gets freaky with Fyodor’s arm as a coping mechanism. (He doesn’t know that Fyodor’s not really dead yet)
DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT
