Fifth... Broken up paragraph...

One day, Alma came up here with newspapers and showed me pictures of his body hanging off a tree in the woods; it took weeks for his body to be discovered. As she furiously spoke about the hell she hopes that monster is in, I sat frozen, my ribcage tightening around my lungs, prohibiting air to enter my deflated organs; my eyes burned but no tears came out…

Alma went on “He could have had info that would bring those bastards to court at least.” …

I believe that’s what hell feels like – spiritual, invisible flames burning through every atom of our immortal selves. Those flames are so much more powerful than fire; I checked. And there is no respite – no water, no ashes, nothing that can bring down the scorching. Alexander was stupid to take it so lightly. The pathetic being was as stupid about death as he was about life.

I’ve often wondered if I should tell Alma the truth; she longed for answers her whole life and perhaps it would have given her some solace, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t lose her. Instead I prayed for her every day, all the time; for her and all those like her. I prayed for them more than I prayed for…

Fourth... might be provocative; depends how the conversation goes on :)

Me: “Aren’t we a feminist?”

Benjamin: “What? A man can’t be a feminist? Is that some kind of exclusive club open only to women; no men allowed?”

Me: “No, not at all. It’s just that you are the first man I’ve met who is one.”

Benjamin: “I’m starting a trend. How would you define feminism anyway?”

Me: “Good question! I’ll tell you what my favourite definition of feminism is; I read this in an article once and it’s about the first time the author heard the word feminism. She said she was at her grandma’s and they were all sitting at the dinning table having their meal, which her grandma prepared of course (plus don’t forget in those days women cooked from scratch) when ‘the’ word popped up, everyone went really quite and her grandpa looked really angry. No one said another word. After dinner her grandpa went to the living room for a nap, while her grandma started to wash the dishes a little louder then usual. That’s when she asked her grandma ‘what is feminism’, and her grandma replied ‘darling, do you remember the story I told you about how your grandpa came into my life riding a horse’, the author nodded (apparently the grandma really did meet the grandpa when he rode into their town from a battle in second world war), so her grandma continued ‘well, darling, for me, feminism is making sure he doesn’t leave my life riding me’.”