“I know you want it back,” he says, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to
keep it forever.” He holds it up, shows it to me. Grins. And then puts it in
his pocket. The one place I’d never dare to reach.
“Why?” I can’t help but ask. “Why do you want it so much?”
He spends far too long just looking at me. Not answering my question.
And then he says
“On the darkest days you have to search for a spot of brightness, on the
coldest days you have to seek out a spot of warmth; on the bleakest days
you have to keep your eyes onward and upward and on the saddest days you
have to leave them open to let them cry. To then let them dry. To give them a
chance to wash out the pain in order to see fresh and clear once again.”
“I can’t believe you have that memorized,” I whisper.
He leans back again. Closes his eyes again. Says, “Nothing in this life
will ever make sense to me but I can’t help but try to collect the change and
hope it’s enough to pay for our mistakes.”