He let out another miserable sound, but he didn’t have it in him to move away. It wasn’t right… not the right solution… was it identifying the right problem?

But she held him. And she’d said to talk.

“I was fighting a copy of myself not to leave you,” he said, muffled. “But defeating him, I killed you.”

Hearing himself aloud, he managed, “I wouldn’t pay a psych doc to analyze it.”