“If you don’t come back, I will die.”

 I left to avoid doing away with myself. Had I stayed I would have tied my own noose in guilt.

 Yet out here I have taken too many wrong turns. Stumbled too far into a murk without dimension. I shelter below a shattered bridge where a road once had been. Dragged dead, snowcovered boughs to the fire on which they now hiss and steam, and stare into the blackness. 

I cannot forget what you said. My want is only exceeded by my regret. For I no longer remember the way home.

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