Dale Cooper takes in a long breath, and lets it out, slowly, looking away. Prana, he thinks. Pranayama. Mind as the blank page.

"It matters to me."

He says this with a faint, faraway smile; his eyes are on the gazebo in the center of Upper Twin Park, and the pond beyond.

"It might matter to you, to have someone who -- knows what this means, not just for where you came from, but for you. Especially because you can never return."