I spring my bladed days on him, like he is an outcropping of the monster, Goliath, Moloch, as we've all come to know it.
He reads the words aloud.
"At some point, once you've deviated from the standard path so far, there is no going back."
"I'm not trying to go back." I say. "I'm just trying to maintain a grasp on reality."
"You're getting too old for both hands." he says. "You should have developed your right while you had a chance."