His hands trembled as he listened, but he didn’t interrupt. When I finished, he swallowed hard. “So… you don’t think it’s me,” he said. “I don’t think it ever was,” I said. He sat with that for a moment.
Then, quietly, “What happens now?” I told him the truth. That the people responsible were watching patterns. That they were counting on him to keep walking. And that if he was willing—only if he was willing—we could stop it.