The Ghost of the Man I Killed

I had been in solitary confinement for a few days. It already felt like months. I would work out, a daily routine of several hundred push-ups, squats, jumping jacks, burpees. I drank the poisoned water that slowly dripped from the sink connected to my toilet. I picked through the meals shoved thrice daily through the slot in my reinforced steel door to consume minimal calories, scouring for anything vegan to keep me alive. I wrote…