Careful

I wonder.

What is feeling, exactly? I don't mean touch. I mean that something inside you, that makes you happy or sad. Sometimes, it's a terrible thing, a terrible something that can really make a man sick, and I wish I could live without it.

It's like, I attach all these great "feelings" to Stella, but then, as she lays dying, these "feelings" are made terrible because I know that I'll miss them and I'll miss her. What I feel is nostalgia. Nostalgia doesn't get anyone anywhere. It is a dark space. Nostalgia is another way of saying, "I wish..."

I can't make butter today. I can't do anything, except hold Stella. Warden knows that something's wrong. He's been unusually quiet. He hasn't even touched his food, which is a first, and his nose is dry.

Sometimes, you think you're close to figuring it out. You're given the key. The door is waiting. You open the door, and there's another door, and you need to find another key all over again.

"Listen!" Stella says with her eyes.

"Tell me!" I say.

"Careful."

"What?"

"If not now. Then later."