“And maybe you can put that beer can next to that old seer’s eyeballs on the shelf, and you can come in here and tell me what you’ve done each day.” “But you won’t really be here.” I was crying so hard I could barely speak anymore. “Maybe I will be, in a way,” he croaked. “Maybe she had it right. Maybe I’ll still be watching over you in some way. Because I only want to be here, Lor.” He cupped my cheek, hand quaking. “Even if I wasn’t sick, I’d only want to be here. With you. I just… I w-wish we’d had a bit more time.”