[The window is open, and Karasu is sitting on the sill. He fiddles with the communicator until he's satisfied with the feed quality, setting it on the edge of a table. Stretching, he offers the camera a lazy sort of smile.]
In...less than a month it will be two years. Two years to the very...day.
[This doesn't seem to bother him, however, and he
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I'm fine...and yourself?
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Of course not.
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I wish it did not matter...
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How have you been? I had...wondered if you were still here.
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I wish I were not.
I wish...
But it does not matter what I wish.
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