“I was as real to him as he was to me and it struck me just then that I meant something to him. In whatever capacity he was able, I meant something. The irony of that epiphany made my gut twist.”

“Looking at him like that, I felt like I needed something from him, or somebody, and that probably meant that he also needed something from me, or somebody, but the revelation was like looking at spots on a slide. Knowing that it meant something to somebody wasn't the same as it meaning something to you.”

“Okay," I said, "what's your biggest fear?"As always, he took a second to think about the answer."Clowns," he said."Clowns.""Yup."I just looked at him. "What?" he said, glancing over at me."That is not a real answer," I told him."Says who?""Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence."He thought for a second. "Clowns.”

“When he said to give him the sword, I don’t think he meant for you to stick it in his guts.”

“I walked to the table and picked it up, doing as he asked. And then it struck me that I was setting a so-called zombie’s alarm clock for him, and I swear I heard something snap in my ears. I started laughing uproariously.I heard the monster’s bemused voice outside, asking me if I was alright, but that just made it funnier.”

“I know we only talked once-""But it meant something to you." Our eyes met for only an instant. "It meant something to me, too. I just didn't realize - Well, I thought it was only me.”