He doesn't have time to feel guilty. Or he never used to.

Joel slows to a complete stop with whatever he's trying to do with the guitar, unable to run away from those words. Clementine is such a bright, articulate little kid. He tries to think about that instead of what she's saying, but he keeps revisiting it, his face far away. It doesn't make you a bad dad.

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, squeezing at the corners of his eyes to keep away an annoying, thin film of water. He knows, for Christ's sake. Holding onto too much is a bad idea.

"Yeah," he agrees, voice a little scratchy. He's sure Clem's parents' last thoughts were of her and her safety. They'd been separated at the time -- they must've been worried sick. "Though I dunno if she would even recognize me at this point."