Tharash nods approvingly as he reads my work, but I am not satisfied: “There are too many questions left unanswered.”

“Some questions are not meant to be answered, but perhaps you are right: we should write down what we can,” he says.

“Well, there’s a first,” I say to myself, but decide not to waste this opportunity: “Why, out of all infinity, did you pick me? I already was a broken man before you ever met me, and things certainly didn’t improve since then.”

He smiles, sipping his tea. “It takes one broken man to understand another. We are madmen, you and I. What we’ve done, and what we will do, it is all madness.”

I shake my head at him. “I was so certain what I was doing was right. That it made sense. Now, I’m not so sure anymore.”

Out of his pocket comes a black shard, which he places on the table. “It is but a piece of the puzzle.”

“But was it worth it?” I ask and then admit: “I am still not convinced that it was all even real.”

“We shall have to go and see, won’t we?” he says, getting that spark in his eyes that indicate his mind has conjured up another realm of madness.

“I suppose so,” I say.

He looks at my pen. “Are you writing this down as well?”

“Of course.”

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