Evening. Have a sneak peak of "Thursday".
"Why do this? Do you think this earns you forgiveness?"
"No. It can't."
"Well... you're right. I can't forgive you."
Her tone was surprisingly flat, but still. "I understand, it was such a terrible-"
"I don't think you do," she interrupted, "it's not that I refuse to forgive. I feel like I can't. You've done nothing to me personally. Your last chance for forgiveness for her is gone."
"What do you mean?"
"My father. Michael Levins. Penny was his younger sister. She was my aunt. If anyone had the right to judge you, it was him. And he passed away last year. Cancer."
"Oh. I am sorry-"
"I'd like to tell you a story. My father was already in high school when Penny was born, and had just graduated college. He had moved back home while he was looking for a job, and one day, he found Penny had dismantled his computer. She was very curious, wanting to know how things worked, he told me. Anyway, he was furious, called her all sorts of things and threw her out of his room. The next day he drove into the next state over for a job interview. He had to leave before everyone else woke up. When he returned, Penny had gone missing."
Everyone regarded her in silence. She gently wiped an eye.
"I don't know if you know what it's like, to part with someone you love on angry terms, and discover you can never take it back. Truth be told, neither do I. But my father did. His whole life, he hoped he'd get a chance to apologise. And he burned that lesson into me, Mister Dreemurr. Never leave someone angry. A wise lesson he learned the hard way. His whole life he lacked that closure. And now we've learned that you are the one who stole it from him."
"...yes. I am."
"Well, you missed your chance for closure of your own. Would he have forgiven you? I don't know. All I know is I can't. And I suppose denying you that closure is something like revenge. Anything more than that is a waste of time and tears."