Timothy climbed weakly to his feet and turned to face the old man once more. “You don’t need to do this,” he implored, his words eating one another in his short breath. “Don’t you know....what it’s like.....haven’t you ever loved anybody?” The old man did not move. “Once,” he said. “Once I loved someone, and once someone loved me. Once I loved, once I lost, and once I grieved. Once, and never again.” Timothy shut his eyes, calling on his last reserve of strength simply to remain standing. “It’s not too late,” he said in almost a sob. “It’s never too late...” “Maybe not for you,” the old man sang out. “For you, perhaps, it would never be too late. But it has been too late for me since before you ever thought of the stars and dreamed of things beyond. Go back to your dreams now, little one,” he sighed. “Go back, and leave me to my fate. I will not say I do not want your help. I want it desperately. But no matter how much you tried, it would never be enough.” “But...you couldn’t mean...that is, you can’t stay here....” Timothy’s wide eyes opened wider. “This is what I have been waiting for since the day I was born,” the old man responded, an unearthly peace described better than words could ever tell on his face. He turned to face the failing sun, and lifted his face to the heavens. “Go now, before it’s too late,” he whispered. Timothy tried to take in air, but he coughed on it and couldn’t get a good breath. He turned around and tried to run to safety. He knew he didn’t have much time or much strength, and if he had only been going for himself he never would have made it. Sometimes, though, there are things guiding you that you want more fervently than even your own life. Timothy left that dying world forever. And after that final escape, nobody ever returned to it, and nobody ever came out.