He says it so gently. It's almost kind. You have always been alone. His hand is gentle on me too, his lips. He says my names, and I look at him - at it, at the thing it is, the horrible thing, all that ugliness and beauty and strangeness and -

"I love you." I say it defiantly, because this isn't a night for tears. This is the end of everything. "All of me and all of you." Goodbye. I don't say it. "Good luck." For what little use that could ever be for him.

I could kiss him, but I don't. I walk away instead, without looking back, my back straight. I don't know where I'm going.