What has he lost?, W. wonders. He has an overwhelming sense of loss. Why does he grieve? He is saturated with grief. Somehow, he blames me, the idiot wandering beside him. It must be his fault, the idiot!, he thinks to myself, as I eat my ice cream. He wants to shake me, to grab me by the lapels and bellow, it's all your fault! Because it is my fault, it must be, W.'s sure of it.
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