"I'm sorry," he says again, like saying it over and over will do anything, will make it mean something. It's not enough. But there isn't anything else he can do, so he just repeats the apology quietly.

"I should go." But he doesn't want to. He wants to stay here, with a blanket over his shoulders and someone quietly next to him. He doesn't want to try to force his uncooperative body to move when he barely made it here, when he's exhausted and his vision is blurred and he can barely sit upright. But he should leave. He shouldn't keep taking up space and making Ginko worry.