Edward Brown felt a chill creep up from his feet.
He frowned and turned back, "Are you seriously insane? You're lying here, and she didn't even take a look at you when she came, just turned around and left, and you're okay with it? What kind of fucking love is this?"
Is he worried about her getting caught in the rain by leaving?
Caleb Baker adjusted his finger with the oxygen saturation clip clipped to it, carelessly removing it. His voice was melancholic and dismissive, "I'm not dead yet. I don't need her to mourn for me."
Edward Brown choked on his words, "Aren't you sad?"
He responded languidly, "There are plenty who love me. I won't be at a loss if I die. It's good for her to love herself more and not be wronged in dealing with people and incidents."
Such is life.
He doesn't need anyone to live or die for him.
The living should enjoy it; the dead should look forward with the utmost calmness.
This precious rose of his should live proudly and unbowed.
