I wonder. Would she be satisfied if I never stop abusing myself for what I did to us? Would it matter if I spend every day thinking of what we had, the part I played in murdering it, and the desolation that followed? Would she curse my name to her new partner and the world any less if she knew how much I torture myself on purpose in the name of justice for the harm I caused in ignorance by accident? Would I still exist to her if she knew that I am thankful for this knowledge, this vigilance, this conflict within myself, this painful growth, this ineffable lonliness I live with every day, and might until I finally, mercifully die? Would she care at all? I wonder.