He never called the helplines. The one time he did, it was to say goodbye ... to anybody, before leaving the world. Rosie ... that was her name. She'd given it when she wasn't supposed to. She said things that made him burn to live. And he would. He'd find a way to hide his darkness so that he could dance with her, just a single dance, in the liquid sunshine of her laugh.And maybe ... maybe he'd taste her. But only once.