[ He’s not going to give you the peace. He had to see all that without a proper commiserator. ]

I am not the man you lost, no. But I am the vessel for all of his thoughts and feelings— and some of yours, may I add.

... Handle me like you might a living urn, then. Or a relic left in my will. Though it sounds as if your own mind cannot help its ceaseless machinations even now. I am sure that you will come to a proper conclusion.

[ He eats the spanakopita as quickly as the heat will allow him to, then dabs the crumbs off the napkin with his tongue. ]