It's too late to say you didn't mean to tear up everything in your path, to act as if you cared about what you wrecked to get what you wanted. And hey, you weren't wrong either, exactly. I did need to go forward. I did want a way to get from one place to the next. I welcomed it, in spite of my reservations about what you had done. But there were other ways of growing, better ways, perhaps; I know you took because it was the most expedient.
It's too late to matter now, but I want you to know—I sold the car. I left for somewhere I wouldn't need one, so I wouldn't need what you've got. I don't want to owe you any more thanks.
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