Skin-on chicken thighs: $[I don’t remember]
Unsalted butter: $[I don’t remember]
Total cost: $[Doesn’t matter]
The day before Mr. Biscuit died, I received an email from Logan Sachon, with whom I had not corresponded in many months. Logan’s email comprised a link to this Billfold post and a brief note ending with “lotta mr biscuit callouts :)”. Logan was among the people I had expected to notify after I found my way through the grief, but by way of The Billfold she heard the news in advance. Such is Mr. Biscuit’s loving gravity: many synchronicities and sea changes arrived in the orbit of his death.
I read the comments aloud to B, and even in the pain of his cancer he was flattered and heartened that people still remember him and find joy in the stories of his adventures. He asked me to convey his sincere love and warm wishes to everyone.
Mr. Biscuit died at peace in my arms, with the taste of buttery chicken still on his tongue.
William Foster lives in Oregon City, Oregon.