I'll find a way to reach you. Maybe it'll be like how we did it this time. Maybe it'll be a letter. A phone call. You'll know it's me when you hear it or when you get it.

[ He doesn't mind holding her up. In fact, he's glad to do it. He wants to touch her, to feel her, as if something is telling him to remember this, because he might not have the chance to feel another person- to feel her in his arms for a long time. Maybe that something is just a feeling, or maybe it's an echo in his mind telling him not to let this moment pass. There might be a time down the road that he'll miss the feel of another living person, and so this moment is more important than most. ]

I won't. I won't forget you. Hey, I know.

[ He has a piece of paper on him, partially written on but with enough space remaining for something, and he knows what that something is. Maybe it's by luck or maybe it's soemthing else a little more fanciful but no less real, but he spots a broken off pencil on the ground and picks it up. ]

Write your name here, if you don't mind. That'll help me remember you. [ In theory, anyway. ]