Joel realizes that he's staring a couple of seconds after she finishes speaking, dropping his chin with a frown. He wishes he could change it for her -- not just to protect her, but because those words cut close to the bone. There aren't too many people left with similar memories who are also able to be so forthcoming about them. He knows Tess has those blurry spots too, but goddamn, they don't really talk about it. About any of it.

That's mostly Joel's fault, but really, what would be the point? Clem is younger, much younger. Maybe that's why she just says it.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he says, stilted and stifled. Like it's a real effort, because it is. He has to work really damn hard just to verbalize the truth. "The longer you go on, the hazier it gets."

That's not good news, but what else can he say? Sorry doesn't do a damn thing and he's not going to waste time pretending it'll be different.

"I'm sorry," but he says it anyway. So unlike himself, but she's so young and life is so very long. And if second chances exist, they exist in children like Clementine.