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I erase your memory every time I leave your apartment. That way, if I don’t come back, I can’t disappoint you.

To be fair, they do the same thing to me after most missions; (supposedly) this prevents (worse) PTSD (than I already have). You’ll never have to experience the heartbreak I’ve seen, my cherished.

So I’m happy to continue as your twice-yearly furnace-repair technician, and your husband thinks our son is his son, and no one is hurt, I think.

If it makes you feel any better, I also erase you from my memory every single time, or try to.