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The Peace Corps in a third world country was a trip, but not as trippy as the letter from my friend back home. Inside, a small square of paper imprinted with an owl. I swallowed it remembering crazy college days. Hours later I was lost in a shantytown, standing in a cemetery, a goat staring curiously.
“I love you,” said the goat, who morphed into a beautiful woman.
“I love you too,” I answered, surprised that I meant it.
“Let’s go somewhere private,” said the goat-woman.
“I’m lost,” I said.
“You got that right,” she said, pulling out the knife.