I was hiking off-trail—old logging road, overgrown with ferns—and kicked something hard under the leaves. There it was: a human skull, jaw still on, front tooth busted like it'd been punched out mid-laugh. No dirt on it, just pale bone, like it'd been waiting decades... maybe centuries. Makes you think—how quick we vanish. One slip, one fight, one bad night, and you're just this thing the rain washes over. Turns out... flawless replica. Still, I brought it home. Keeps me from getting too cocky. Yours if you want a reminder that time doesn't care.