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f2b2b3.jpg
Tropical Island
f2b2b3
I was never a religious person. My wife was. She always attended church. Her smile... Oh god. Delia... I'm going to leave her alone. In all of this. Please, no. I have to survive this.
"Please," I beg him, "you... have to help me."
>"I know, Jack. But the way I help people... well, it's just not time, for your world. Soon. But not now. I'm so sorry, Jack."
>move
I think I feel my arm move, but not of my volition. I'm going limp. My organs are shutting down.
"Can't you... please..."
My thoughts are only of my family. Delia. Johnny. I can't let them down like this.
"Please."
He thinks for what seems like an eternity. Whatever he has considered, it seems to pain him.
He does not look as sinister as I might have thought. Out of the limited view, through my own tearing eyes, into the dark and under the brim of his ashen hat, I think I make out the glint of tearing eyes.
>"I don't want to do this to you, Burns. You're a good man, now."
>move
I feel my breathing slow. Soon, it will stop, entirely.
I whisper my final words:
"Save them."
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