[Inside the Glenwood Santorium]
"How we feelin' today, Doc?"
"I'm dyin'. How are you?"
"Pretty much the same."
"So now we can add "self-pity" to your list of frailties?"
"Alright, Doc. Alright, how many cards you want?"
"I don't want to play anymore."
"Damn it, you're the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I've ever known in my entire life."
"I call. [looks at Doc's cards] You win."
"Yet, with all ... You're the only human being in my entire life that ever gave me hope. [pauses, reminiscing] I was in love once. My first cousin. She was 15. We were both so ...."
"That's good, Doc. That's good. What happened?"
"She joined a convent over the affair. She was all I ever wanted. What did you ever want?"
"Just to live a normal life."
"There's no 'normal life,' Wyatt, it's just 'life.' Get on with it."
"Don't know how."
"Sure you do: say goodbye to me, go grab your computer, and fire off an interesting question to firstname.lastname@example.org for this week's Battle Red Bag. Take that humor from it; don't look back. Email another question next week. Email right on to the end. Email, Wyatt. Email for me. [pauses, collects himself] Wyatt, if you were ever my friend --- if ya ever had even the slightest of feelin' for me --- email now. Email now, please."
"Thanks for always being there, Doc."