"See you around, Jay."

Oh damn, here come the tears, and for once I'm glad for the sunglasses. I can't believe he's making me do this. On any other day, I would have felt honored that he trusts me enough to let me use this little doodad, but he wants me to use it on him.

Why, Kay? I'm positive you can see how I feel about you. And yet you're asking me to make you forget all we had? All we could have had? That's cold, man. That's breaking my heart.

Yeah, I have a heart. So do you, and that's the thing, aint it?

Sure, it could've happened. I could've had the chance to make you as happy as you've made me. But hey, this is the last shot I have at making you happy. No chance in hell I'm not gonna take it.

I raise the neuralizer in a final farewell.

"No. You won't."

And that's it. I pull the proverbial trigger. With that comes the quick and final decision.

Not a split-second after the memory-altering light is gone, I tug off the sunglasses and press my lips to his.

It's quick and innocent, really. Just a fleeting contact of flesh. But DAMN. This is one memory I'm gonna cherish, and I hope he will, too.

I pull away, slowly, and deliberately, pulling the shades back on. I look him in the eye.

Kay's gone, so to speak. His name's probably Kevin or Kyle or something whacked-up like that. The posture, the facial expression, they belong to a completely different person.

But only the guy who loves him can see that spark in his eyes. Kay's spark. I've probably got one, too, but he can't see it. Another thing about the shades that's sort of a mixed blessing.

"You better go," I tell him. "Your wife's waiting."

He gives me this vague half-smile, and I know he understands the last few seconds perfectly. He flags down a cab, then rides away, looking half-crazy and half-serene and content.

I'll wait, Kay. I'll wait. A sequel won't take that long, anyway.