“Sorry about the inheritance, son.”
“I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself.”
“Not money. There’ll be enough of that” he said, his whispery voice fading further. His words slipped from his pale lips almost as silently as the liquid of an egg from a cracked shell. “The other inheritance, from your mother and me. The XP.”
“Dad, no. You couldn’t have known.” His eyes closed again. Words as thin and transparent as raw egg white:
“I’m so sorry”
“You gave me life” I said. His hand had gone limp in mine. For an instant I thought that he was dead. My heart fell stone through-water in my chest.
But the beat traced in green light by the electrocardiograph showed that he had merely lost consciousness again.
“Dad, you gave me life” I repeated, distraught that he couldn’t hear me.