"We never wanted to see snow again, so we lived in Florida. Tiny place, but it was comfortable and we were happy. I mean, we were grieving. We were traumatized. But there was happiness, too. And she-- She would look away. She'd look at me, but she'd always look away after a second or two. Took me a while to notice it, but after the overlook, she wouldn't look me in the eyes. Not for long. I couldn't figure it out. It was you. She saw your eyes in me and she'd have to look away. It tortured her to have to do that, so I fixed it. I fixed it for her and it was the last time I ever used it. So that she wouldn't see you anymore when she looked at me. I was 20 when she died. And back then, I saw when someone was gonna die. I saw flies. Black flies. "Death flies," I called them, circling people's faces. And in those last weeks, she was covered... Her whole face. I could barely see her eyes. And I... I tried to comfort her, but I could hardly look at her. And she saw that. She just lay there dying, with her son who couldn't look at her."