Open Mind: Chapter Three
You already know everything there is to know about the accident. Everything that I remember of it, in any case. There was that rainy day in the library when it was just the two of us, silent other than the persistent buzzing of the overhead lights and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the foggy windows. I started to cry -- I don’t remember what triggered it, but you asked what was wrong. I told you all about the accident, every bit of it that I could still remember at that point, and I know I was not as nice about it as I should have been. You just wanted to know how to help, and I wanted so desperately to just push you away. But deep down, I wanted you to know. There was a bitter-sweet catharsis in sharing that with you -- but that time has passed. My old man is as dead now as he was then, and I would rather leave my memories of him untainted by sharing again now what I remember of his death.
