“If I died tomorrow, he wouldn’t cheer, he wouldn’t break down. He wouldn’t do anything.”

“Its not that he didn’t appreciate his dishwasher. There was something about washing dishes by hand that was therapeutic, as if he could wash away the regrets of the past and photos he wanted to wipe out of his memory forever.”

“He glanced through the kitchen door at Tori sitting in front of his laptop. Would they be together in two months? Two years? Two decades? Did he want to be with her that long? Maybe. He didn’t know and suspected she didn’t know either. Three months together wasn’t long enough to know, Actually it was. but he still needed time to…”

“Have you ever told him how you feel? What he meant to you, what he probably still means to you?”

“No! He tried to shout out but the water surged into his mouth and lungs choking his cry. Then darkness. And nothingness. Always the nothingness. Thicker this time as if it had fingers pulling him down and pulling the life out of him. Pulling his soul out of him.”

“You know, people think I’m a little crazy because of what I do for fun, but I don’t think I have anything on you.”

“All I saw in his eyes during my last impromptu was visit was apathy. A healthy dose of it. It’s not that he hates me; it’s that he’s devoid of any type of emotions toward me.”