“Do you ever give a thought to your legacy?” he asked, slipping out the sibilants in the question through a fog of nicotine-laced vapor.

“My legacy?” I said.

“Yeah.” Another deep puff, followed by a fresh cloud of fog leaking out of his mouth. “What you’ll be remembered for. Hell, if you’ll be remembered at all.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Do you really think that’s healthy, right now?”

“It’s just a question.”

“I guess the answer will have to be the same with me as it is with everybody else. Leave what I’ve done to stand on its own. Either it’ll add up to a legacy, or it won’t,” I said.

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