“You’ll be fine on your own. You realize this. You know this.”

“I do know this. But you also have to understand that, without you, it’s a lot less interesting to stick around.”

“You’re the one that chose a life to death.”

“And you’re the one that chose to run.”

“I didn’t run. You must realize, mate, that my life will never be a jog again. I’ll be strolling and someday I’ll slouch over and stumble forward. The difference between you and me is that in the future you will clutch at your bruised ankles, kneel, and collapse; I will have to keep walking.”

“…”

“I’m not leaving you behind. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“It was the only way.”

“I know.”

“…”

“…”

“Do you blame me?”

“No.”

“…”

“No. I don’t. Never will.”

“…”

“And do you blame me?”

“I do. Right now. I do. But I won’t be able to. It’s a blessing that you don’t blame me, because otherwise you would live forever with that. You will walk on the path forwards with anger at your feet. It’s a blessing, P[], and I suppose you should be thankful for it.”

“You should be thankful I don’t blame you.”

“I’m just thankful that I have something to look forward to.”

“What? Death?”

“…Living. Living with a drive.”

“Ah.”

“So you’ll leave now?”

“Oh, yes. I have several paths to stumble over, still. Take care of my son. He should take of you too. Give him a pat on the back for his troubles. Serve him a slice of cake and tell him that I have left.”

“You are a cruel father, P[], but a worthy man.”

“Mm.”

“Farewell, mate.”

“Goodbye, P[].”