"That's good, means he is healthy."

Edward muttered absently as he started to scribble on the paper lightly. His hand moved without any thought on his part. It was a simple pattern repeated over and over again, two words were written once, twice, thrice. If Ruth looked before she left she wouldn't be better for the knowledge, it wasn't helpful, it was just pain. The two words that consumed Edward Blackwood read simply, My Fault.