Well, hey there, y 'all. Welcome back to Cold
Reach. Hot takes. I sounded a little more excited,
but I'm currently coming to you live from the
aftermath of Thanksgiving dinner at Luanne's
family house. And I think I just witnessed a
cranberry -related crime. Now, I love Luanne's
folks. Don't get me wrong. They're warm, they're
welcoming, and apparently they deep -fry everything.
I mean, they deep -fried the turkey, the stuffing,
the rolls. Heck, I pretty sure someone tossed
a salad in the fryer when I wasn't looking. There's
a smell in this kitchen that could legally be
classified as weaponized. At one point, her Uncle
Merle tried to give a toast with gravy. Not a
toast to gravy. I mean, the man literally lifted
the gravy boat and said, Sayers here. I've been
sitting here in a folding chair, sweating through
my flannel, pretending that none of this is happening.
Anywho, before I slip into a food coma and they
mistake me for leftovers, let's get to tonight's
first story. Because I could use a little peace
and reflection myself. It's called Tactical Therapy.
And buddy, after tonight, I might be signing
up for some of that. This one's about veterans
bridging the gap between generations, finding
some understanding, and maybe healing a few old
wounds along the way. It's written by Steve Lloyd
and sound designed by Matt Mangum. Voice actors.
Buck Tran. Matt Rexar. Give me some turkey. Well,
the dog's barking their name in front of the
table, so I guess he handled that part. He's
one of the only ones here who didn't start an
argument over who gets a turkey leg. So sit back,
loosen that belt of knots, and enjoy tactical
therapy. Because Lord knows, I'm about three
spoonfuls away from a spiritual breakthrough
myself. Come on, you don't stop in the middle
of a mission. You're a machine. Move! This is
ridiculous. I've been through life fire, combat
zones, and I can't even fix a stupid lawnmower.
You know, the mower is not going to fix itself
by yelling at it. Oh, you think? I've tried everything,
kicked it, yelled at it, gave it a pep talk,
and it's still dead. It's not about a mower,
Mike. It's about what's under the hood. Oh yeah?
So you're a lawnmower expert now, huh? If I can't
survive Vietnam, I think I can handle a mower.
Well, I'm sure Vietnam prepared you for this
kind of combat. Who knew? You're a lawn warfare
specialist. Sometimes, the biggest battles aren't
fought with bullets. They're fought with patience.
The engine clogged. Knees cleaning. A good blowout.
Just like us. Let's get clogged up. Too many
missions. Too many explosions. Just need to clean
out the dust. Yeah, well... It's not like there's
a manual for this kind of thing. How do you even
clean out a life? You've been back for how long?
A few months? Yeah, and it's like... Like I don't
even know how to do this. The quiet. The... Nothing.
I was used to constant action. You know? Always
on alert. Now, this place feels like a ghost
town. I remember coming back after the war. People
didn't understand. They think when you leave
combat, everything stops. But it doesn't. It
keeps moving. With or without you. Exactly. I
thought I could just jump back in, pick up where
I left off. But there's nothing to pick up. Just...
Silence. Boredom. You know, when I came back,
I have no idea what to do either. I went from
fighting a war to sitting at a desk, selling
car insurance. At first, I thought I could handle
it, but I felt like I was drowning. Every day
felt like a fight I didn't want to be in. I get
that. It's like I'm always looking for the next
enemy. The next threat. But there's nothing.
Nothing to fight. So? What do you do when there's
no enemy? You find a way to be at peace with
the quiet. You let the storm inside calm down.
Calm down? I don't know how to do that. That's
the thing. You don't make peace. You just stop
looking for a fight. One day, you'll realize
the battle was always with yourself. So, you're
saying that I'm the one creating all the noise?
Yes, but you don't have to. When you stop waiting
for explosion, the quiet becomes. manageable.
You don't need a mission. You need to be present.
You know, I thought I had to control everything.
Like I was back out there on a mission. But this?
This is just life, huh? Exactly. Just life. And
when you stop fighting it, You start to find
peace in the chaos. You can still move, but in
a different way. Man, you've got some wisdom.
I didn't expect that from my grumpy old neighbor.
I may be old, but I have learned a few things.
It's not about a fight anymore. It's about how
you live after the battle's over. I guess. I
guess I'm still trying to figure out how to live
after the battle. You're not alone. We all find
our way in different ways. I can show you how
I learned to adapt. But you have to do the work.
Peace, huh? Feels like a weird kind of mission,
though. It's the hardest mission of all. You're
not used to this kind of fight. But it's the
one you have to win. Or the war will keep on.
How do you do it, Elias? How do you just let
go? All this. It's like I'm waiting for something
to happen. Like I need to feel like I'm on a
mission. But there's nothing to fight. You fight
the quiet. You fight your mind. But in the end,
you're the one who needs to decide to stop. When
I came back, I thought I could just go back to
my old life. But nothing felt right. I kept fighting,
looking for something to fight against. Even
the smallest thing felt like battle. The real
world was inside me. I didn't know how to be...
Still, you think I'm still fighting inside? Every
time you push instead of letting go, you're fighting.
Every time you try to control the outcome, you're
at war with yourself. It's not easy, but you
have to start letting go of that fight. It will
destroy you if you don't. You think this lawnmower
is your enemy? It's just a machine. It's you
who's been fighting it. You're fighting yourself.
I thought... I thought that if I just kept moving,
I could outrun everything. That I could just
keep doing stuff. That I wouldn't have to face...
this. Running doesn't always make you stronger.
It just makes you tired. The secret is, you have
to know when to stop. Well, I guess that's one
hell of a way to put it. Really screwing this
whole civilian life thing up, huh? Don't worry.
You'll get it. You don't have to have everything
figured out. You just have to try. Alright. Let's
see if this thing still has some fight in it.
That's the first step. So this is it, huh? This
is how you deal with life after the war? By just
letting go? Little by little, one day at a time
is not perfect, but it's enough. I still don't
know what I'm doing. But I think I'm finally
starting to get it. That's all you need. You
know you're still learning. Hey, Elias. Thanks
for not letting me blow up my life like that
mower. You're welcome. But next time... Try not
to blow up the whole yard. Hey, Mike. When you're
done mowing your lawn, why don't you come over
for a beer? I might just do that. Alright, little
guy. Let's get you running. One piece at a time.
Maybe the old man does know what he's talking
about. Well now, wasn't that something? Tactical
therapy. Is it right in that spot between your
ribs and your regrets? I'd clap, but I'm afraid
if I move too quick, half this stuffing's gonna
restage a breakout. You know, sometimes stories
like that make you think about what you're holding
on to and what you're willing to let go of. Which,
speaking of, brings us to our next tale. A little
piece that feels like rain on a cold window.
One of these stories that doesn't just say something.
It lingers. It's called November Rain. Yeah,
I know. Sounds romantic, right? But this one
ain't about candlelight or slow dances. This
one's about a couple trying their damnedest to
just keep going when the world keeps giving them
reasons not to. It's about the silence between
two people who used to talk about everything.
And what happens when that silence starts to
sound louder than thunder? So grab your blanket.
Pour yourself something warm. Maybe gravy. Ain't
that right, Uncle Merle? Now get ready for November
rain. I'll be right here, sitting next to a half
-eaten pie and a family that's arguing... Dadgummit,
who left the oven on? It's hotter than sin in
here. I just saw the roll sweat. Family that's
arguing... Don't look at me. I ain't touched
that oven since 09. Family that's arguing...
Oh, please. You were bragging five minutes ago
about getting the temperature just right. I can
smell the Tupperware melting from the living
room. Well, maybe if someone didn't preheat to
broil like they're trying to contact the underworld,
then maybe we could have saved the turkey. That
setting's there for a reason. It's called...
Browning? You cremated the stuffing. Somebody
fed it with a paper plate. Yep, they're fighting
over who left the oven on again. All right, folks,
here it is. November rain. It's funny, you know.
You can go from being everything to someone to
feeling like a stranger in their own home. We're
not strangers, Emma. You're just... different
now. Different? That's it? You think that's what
this is about? I gave you everything. I stood
by you when everything was falling apart. And
now you're telling me I'm just different? You
think I don't know that? You think I didn't know
what I put you through? But it's not that simple.
You're acting like I've just... That I've just
chosen to drift away. You know it's not like
that. Then what is it? What is it if you're not
choosing it? I don't recognize you anymore. And
I don't know if I can keep pretending that we're
okay. I never said we were okay, but... You think
this is easy for me? You think it's easy to look
at you and not feel like I failed you? That I
failed... Us? Then why the hell are you still
doing this? Why are you stuck in this... this
cycle of pain? It's like you're living in a ghost
story. Neither of us can move on, but neither
of us can heal. Because I can't let go. I can't
let go of you. Of us. But I also don't know how
to fix it. I don't know how to make this right.
You want me to stay? Do you even want me here
anymore? Yes, I want you here, but I don't want
you to stay out of obligation. I don't want you
to stay because you think you can fix me. I can't
fix you. I can't fix anything anymore. But you've
been holding on for so long, trying to fix us.
But what if it's broken beyond repair? You can't
just go away from me. Not like this. Not in the
middle of all this November rain. I don't know
if I can stay either. I don't know if you can
keep pretending that everything's going to be
okay if we keep doing this. I don't want to lose
you. I don't want this to end like this. I know
I messed up. I know that. I can't change it.
But I don't want to let go of what we... Had!
Of you! I don't know if we have anything left
to save. I don't know if we're the same people
anymore. Maybe we're just... different versions
of who we were. I can't lose you! You don't understand!
The thought of losing you in this storm, it's...
it's... it's too much! I've been losing you for
so long. Then tell me what you need! Tell me
what I can do! I'll do anything! Anything! Just...
Just don't leave me! I don't know if I can fight
anymore. Emma... Please... Don't leave me. Don't
leave me to face this storm alone. I don't know
if I can stay, Jack. I don't know if we're meant
to be... I don't even know where to start anymore.
Something that feels like we're still us. I can't
promise everything will be okay. I can't promise
that I'll be the man you wanted me to be. I don't
have any answers, but I am willing to try. Trying.
Trying is all you've been doing. I don't know
how much longer you can keep holding on if you
don't see any change. I know. I know you've been
holding on for both of us. I don't want to lose
you. I swear to God that I don't. It would break
me. I'm already breaking. I can feel it. Every
day I stay here, I feel like I'm losing a little
bit more of who I am. And I don't know if you
can keep this up. I need to know if you're moving
toward something, not just stuck in this loop.
I don't want to be the reason I forget who you
were. But I need you to understand that I'm...
I'm just as lost in all of this. I don't know
how to make myself feel safe again. I don't know
how to make things right, but I want to! It's
not just about being safe anymore. It's about
feeling seen. Feeling like you're still a part
of this. I see everything you did for me, for
us, and... I didn't deserve it, but don't give
up on me yet. Please. I'm not asking for a miracle,
but I need time. I just needed a chance to show
you that I could be the man you needed. How much
time do we have before we're just strangers again?
I don't know. It won't take as much time as it
takes, but I won't give up. I can't! I need you
to know that! You say that now, but I've heard
you say it before. And I... I just don't know
if you can keep waiting for things to change
when nothing ever does. I know. I know. I know
I've let you down. I've failed you more times
than I can count. I swear to you, I'm willing
to fight! I won't make the same mistake again.
I need you to believe that. I want to believe
it. I want to believe it so badly. But after
everything, can you really come back from this?
I don't know. But I do know this. If you leave
now, if we go away from each other like this,
I'll never forgive myself. Not for anything.
I don't want to leave you. I don't want to give
up on what we had. But I need to know you're
not just stuck. I need to feel like you're still
fighting. I am fighting. Every single day. I
know I've been lost in my own head, but you meant
everything to me. If you have given me the chance,
I... I would have shown you, but... But we can
start together. Together. I don't know if you'll
make it through this storm. But if you don't
try, you never will. Then I'll try. One step
at a time. Ever since we got here, you've been...
distant. Like you're... somewhere else. I'm just...
thinking. Thinking about what? What's really
going on? You keep looking through me like you're
waiting for someone else to walk through the
door. It's just... It's just hard, okay? Everything's
harder than I ever thought it would be. I'm waiting
for you to be here with me. But you're not. It's
not that simple. It's never been simple with
you. But this... this is different. This isn't
just about you not talking. This feels... like
you're hiding something from me. You wouldn't
understand. You wouldn't even believe me if I
told you. Tell me. Please, tell me. What's going
on? I've been talking to you. What do you mean,
talking to me? I'm right here. I'm standing right
in front of you. You... You were in an accident.
I... I couldn't... I couldn't let you go. No.
No, that's... That's not possible. But it is.
You're gone. You died in a car crash five years
ago, Emma. I've been living in this dream ever
since. I've been hearing your voice, feeling
you here with me. I don't know how it started,
but... I couldn't stop it. Every night you were
here telling me everything would be okay. But
that doesn't make sense. I'm here. I'm right
here. I know. I know. I was so lost after you
died. I couldn't live with it. I couldn't live
without you, so I... I imagined you back here.
Every night. Every moment. I've been holding
on to you in my mind, but... You're not really
here, Emma. You're... You're gone. I... I'm not.
I'm not. I've been... I've been trying to keep
you alive. I've been trying to make this hurt
a little less. I thought... I thought if I talked
to you, if I pretended you were still here, maybe...
Maybe I wouldn't feel so empty. Jack. You have
to let me go, Jack. I don't know how. I need
you to see me. Really see me. Before I'm gone.
I... I... I'm sorry. I... I don't know how to
stop. Whew. That one. That one hit a little different,
didn't it? That was November Rain, written by
Steve Lloyd and performed beautifully by Brady
Flanagan and Eliza Renolfson. I tell you, I don't
think I've heard silence used that well since
Daryl tried to explain to Luann why he accidentally
sold her car for parts. I laughed to help with
the hurt. Man, there's a kind of aching stories
like that. The kind that don't shout, they just
sit with you a while. Makes you think about all
those things we let go of even without realizing.
I swear, if I wasn't already feeling over stuff
from Thanksgiving, that one might have knocked
the wind out of me proper. But hey, before you
drift too far into your riddles, we've got something
real special coming up next. The next story's
called Beginnings. Now... Don't let the title
fool you. It ain't your usual sunrise and sparkles
type of thing. No, this one's about two scientists
who stumble into a connection they never expected.
And let me tell you, it's less lab coats and
bakers and more, what the heck just happened
to my heart? Written by Emily Morrisley with
sound design by Daniel. It's a story that reminds
you that even when everything feels like it's
ending, Sometimes, that is just where something
new starts. So, don't touch that dial or, you
know, that little triangle play button thing.
Because up next, it's beginnings. Oh, man. I
must have fallen asleep. Damn. What time is it?
Hello? Hello? What? Is anyone there? What the
hell? Who's there? Oh, God. Finally. Where are
you? I can't see anything. Um, I'm in the bathroom.
What? Yeah, at Fermilabs. Even the next stall
or something, I think I fell asleep. What? No,
but Fermilabs? Like, Enrico Fermi? Yeah, the
big science facility in Chicago named after him.
What? Last thing I remembered, I was checking
on the cyclotron and a power surge happened.
You got to work on the cyclotron? Well, yeah,
but not at Fermilabs. I haven't even heard of
Fermilabs. If you're working on a cyclotron,
how can you not have heard of Fermilabs? Only
the first cyclotron in the U .S. I'm in California.
At Lawrence Livermore. Wait. Wait. You're in
California? What the hell is going on? And that's
what I want to know. One moment, I was checking
the readouts when I think some lightning hit
the building. It caused a power surge through
the whole system. Then I woke up and I can't
see or hear anything. Then I heard your voice.
Hold on, let me get out of here. Were you pooping
or something? Ugh, gross. I think we have more
important things to worry about than if I was
doing a normal human bodily function. Yeah, but
I don't have to hear it. Ugh, whatever. Can you
hear or see anything? I can hear you. I can hear
what's around you, I guess, because I heard the
toilet flush. But it's completely dark. Like,
not even dark of night dark, but like a complete
absence of light. Dark. Oh god. Maybe I didn't
just fall asleep. Maybe I had a stroke. Or I'm
developing schizophrenia. Oh no, I assure you,
I'm like totally real. And I'm freaking out too.
Isn't that what a voice in my head would say?
A delusion? Because that's what you are. Just
a voice in my head. What do you mean, a voice
in your head? I'm real and I'm here in California.
Yeah, and I'm here in Chicago. Though, why would
I have a voice in my head from California? Ugh.
Well, hey, I'd like you to know that California
is a really nice place. It's better than that
frigid farmland of the Midwest or whatever. Attention.
High energy testing. I bet you probably, like,
own a pig and ride a horse, too. Dude, I'm in
Chicago. Not Indiana. Whatever. Regardless, I
can't just be a voice in your head. I'm me. I
have a life here. Yeah, you a surfer girl or
something? What did they call those girls in
the 80s? Valley girl? No. Kinda. Yeah, I mean,
like, I surf and I grew up in the valley, but
I'm not, like, dumb or anything. I mean, I'm
getting my PhD at Berkeley, for God's sake. What
field? What? I said, what field? Oh, yeah, uh,
field theory. Oh, damn. So am I. What the hell
is going on? Listen, if I'm not having a psychotic
break or beginning to present with schizophrenia,
somehow I've got a valley girl in my head. God,
I'm not like a valley girl. I mean, I could just
as well say that I got into a horrible accident
and have compartment syndrome. But then I'd have
to ask myself, why would I be talking to some
hick from the Midwest? Sha -ca -go. It's called
the Second City for a reason! Whatever. I still
can't imagine why I'd be talking to someone like
that. So, it seems, from all the data we have
right now, it's a reasonable conclusion that
somehow I'm in your head. As hard as that is
to believe. Then we've got two main issues. One,
how you got in there. And two, how to get you
out. I agree. So how do we go forward from this?
Um, you're going to be a scientist like me, right?
Then same as we do with any problem. Generate
hypotheses, experiment, gather data, conclusions.
Agreed. Think you can work with a valley girl?
I can try. Can you work with a Midwest hick?
It would be a struggle. I wonder if I'll be able
to taste what you eat. I don't suppose you have
any good tacos out there. We have chi -chis.
Oh, God. Kill me now. Man, I ain't saying I got
emotional, but I might have stared real hard
at my coffee cup for a few minutes there, trying
to figure out if it was condensation or tears.
That one had science, soul, and just the right
amount of what if. It kind of makes a guy want
to go outside, look up at the stars, and apologize
to every telescope he ever tapped too hard. But
hey, before I start getting too sentimental and
someone starts calling this show Randy's Feelings,
let's talk about what's coming next. So this
next story, it's called Freshly's Fates. It's
about two co -workers learning to push past all
the pride, prejudice, and general workplace nonsense
to find a little bit of common ground. Think
of it like... The office. If the office had better
communication and fewer copy machine incidents.
Written by Brady Flanagan and sound designed
by Matt Ruckstar. And starring the ever -talented
Gareth Murden and Bryce Peterson. This one's
got that sweet mix of humor and heart. It'll
make you want to buy your co -worker a coffee
tomorrow. Or at least stop hiding their stapler
in the freezer. So don't go anywhere. Maybe stretch
your legs. Pat your emotional support raccoon.
And get ready. for Freshly's Fades. Oh, sorry.
Excuse me. Pardon. Hi. I'm supposed to start
work here today. Do you know who... Oh, okay.
Thanks. This way? Oh, hello there. I don't suppose
that... I'm... Hey, who's there? Oh, little pixie
child. Welcome to Freshly Feeds Grocery Store.
One moment. Choo! Choo! You're here! Lousy wild
flies trying to burn our mangoes, ploy. How can
Glug help you today? Uh, I, uh, I wasn't expecting,
uh, to work with, uh, someone so... What is it,
child? Spit it out. I just didn't expect that
I would be working with a troll, that's all.
Oh, oh, oh, well, you're Glug's new worker, eh?
Do not be worried. Glug is... Nice troll. Oh,
right. I didn't mean to offend you or anything
like that, really. It's just, well... Come now,
pixie child. Don't trolls, um, eat pixies? Ha
ha ha! New Pixie Child work as a jokester. Glug
know you can pixie in years. Though Glug admits
you're no pretty taster yourself. Hmm. No, no.
Glug is a jokester too. It's a funny joke. Ha
ha ha! Little Pixie Child. Scared for their life.
But Glug is a nice troll. His white joke is funny.
You get it? Oh, yeah. Very good, sir. You are
part of Freshly Feed's family. Whether troll,
pixie, centaur, or even human. Sorry, Glug should
not spit on the floor when Glug talks about human.
It's a natural reaction. Glug trying to be better.
No more casual racism. Ew. What's happening with
your spit, Glug? Eh? Glug's spit is acid. Was
gypsy curse. Glug now has world's worst acid
reflux. Glug's life is pain. Now. So I've mined
the counter beans. Come on, tell Glug. What was
little Pixie's name? Oh, uh, sorry. My name is
Trill, sir. With a Y. T -R -Y -L -L. Huh. If
it was O, you could have been a real family for
Glug. Ha! Uh, yeah, I guess. So... Ah. Sorry,
Glug is apologize. Come, let Glug show you the
store. Here at Fresh Lees Feeds Grocery Store,
we pride ourselves in having a variety of fresh
merchandise for any dietary need. Pleased to
admire the wide selection of vegetables grown
free of magical influence. is rare in today's
society, yes? Answer is yes, big sea child true.
Oh, uh, yes, of course. Natural growth. Magical
influence adds a certain strange metallic taste,
right? Something about an infusion of silver
and iron into the chemical makeup. You know,
in some countries, they ban the use of magical
agriculture outright. In fact, in the year 587
A .M .T., there was a law introduced that...
Oh, Pixie Child Trill understands. No need for
history lecture. Glug hates history. Our vegetables
may be smaller than most, but taste is bare.
Of course, Glug would not know. Glug's acid spit
makes everything taste like bitter hatred and
disappointment. Glug's life is pain. Ah! Shoo!
Get out of here! Wyvernflies! Shoo! Shoo! Uh...
Would you mind if I helped with those? Little
Pixie Trill can try, but Wyvernflies are tricksy
folks. Thanks, uh, Glug. One moment. Oh, sorry.
Excuse me. Wyvern flies are actually a delicacy
for my kind. Ah, little pixie child Trill has
tricks up sleeve too, I see. What happened? How
did that... Oh, there's a reason that you don't
see pixies feed very often. We're pretty shy
about it. Our appetites are much larger than
our small frames, so we have to change, uh, slightly.
Little Pixie Trill's mouth opened eight inches.
Was amazing sight. Inside it, Glug saw what seemed
to be lost souls. Yeah, our digestive systems
connect to another universe. It's a portal. Our
excrements end up in some far -off world in a
place that they call New Jersey. Sounds exotic.
Glug would like to visit. No, trust me, you wouldn't.
It's full of humans. Hey, can I try something?
I studied gypsy curses a little bit in college.
Oh. Oh, wow. She really did a number on you.
Not she. He. He did not like the glugs living
under bridge. Glug said, But Glug has to live
under Bridge's troll tradition. Gypsy said it
was his bridge. Try to show Glug city contract.
Glug does not read. Glug tore up little paper.
Gypsy cried. Was a whole big deal. Was on news.
Shh. I think I... Oh, yes. This should work.
There. Tell me more about this Gypsy. What race
was he? Ah, Gypsy was human. Huh. It's not acid,
no? Yep. Now take a whiff. Huh. Smells like strawberries.
With a hint of lilac. I thought you would like
it. Little Pixie Child Trill is a wonderful creature.
Glob does not know how to thank properly. Well,
let's finish orientation to start. Then we'll
get to work on the whole racism against humans
thing. Clark is happy to have Pixie Child drill
in the Freshly Feeds grocery store family. Yeah,
that was freshly sweet. Real fine work, folks.
Real fine. Now, I normally say something really
deep right now, but I'm currently sitting about
three helpings past my legal limit. My stomach's...
My stomach's just humming like an old refrigerator.
My brain's running on sweet potato fumes. Still,
you know, for I drift into a gravy -induced stream
state, I ought to do my civic duty here. Folks,
please remember, don't fry your turkeys indoors.
Don't deep fry anything that's still moving at
the time. And if your smoke detector starts singing
jingle bells, it ain't celebrating the holidays.
That's your cue to leave the building. All right,
I think I'm just gonna rest my eyes for a bite
You know, I always thought life on the farm was
just, well, life. Walking around, rubbing the
dirt, chasing the sun. But now, as I stand here,
I can't shake this feeling. It's like a shadow
creeping closer, something dark and heavy hanging
in the air. I've seen the others go, one by one.
Each time... A flash of steel and a gasp. And
just like that, silenced forever. I can't help
but wonder, what's it like? Do they know it's
coming? Do they feel that moment of panic, or
is it just... over? I've got a family, you know.
Little ones looking up to me, thinking I'm the
protector. I can't let him see the fear gnawing
at me like a hungry wolf. I should be brave.
I should be strong. But how can I be when the
truth is so close? I want to shout, to warn them,
to tell them to run. But all I can do is stand
here, waiting for the inevitable. There's a strange
comfort in the routine. But the realization hits
me like a cold wind. None of it matters. Not
when they're sharpening the blade. And what's
left of me? Just skin and bones? A memory? I
can't let that be my legacy. I want to be more
than just a fleeting taste. I want to be remembered.
To leave something behind. But here I am, standing
at the edge of my fate. And all I can think about
is how I wish I could... Happy Thanksgiving.
Randy, wake up. You're dreaming again.