[ after he's swallowed thick, like he's bundled the cry up and tied it to a rock and the sound is him dropping that rock into the sea - his tone is barely controlled, a harsh whisper as if the quiet of his voice could make up for the sudden loudness earlier ]

- . . . Sorry. My apologies. ... In any case, there's nothing to be done about it now. He's already said it, and he's already . . .

The pebble has already become a boulder, and it can't be stopped now by any means -

[ with a pause, and then he swallows again - this time, like he's ingesting something bitter ]

- . . . any means that I can bear.

. . . And, most of all, I think . . . he's accepted it. At this point, struggling would be . . .