Free Now and Forever by Ray Bradbury

what would come from his mouth.
    â€œStay,” she said, before he could speak.
    â€œI wish that I could.”
    â€œStay.”
    And here she reached and took his hand.
    And it was a warm hand and his own was cold. She seemed a goddess, bending to reach into his tomb and help him out.
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œOh God,” he cried. “Oh Christ, let me be!” He wept inside. “You don’t understand. I’m not made to not grow old.”
    â€œHow can you know?”
    â€œEach of us knows. I was born to live and die at seventy. Then I will really be filled up. The fire of life, the good stuff, goes straight up the chimney. The sins, the sadness, whatever, stays like soot on the chimney walls. One can gather only so much darkness. I’ve collected too much. How do you knock the soot off the walls inside your soul?”
    â€œWith a chimney sweep,” she said. “Let me sweep and knock those walls until you laugh. I can, if you let me.”
    â€œI won’t allow it.”
    â€œNo,” she said, quietly. “I don’t suppose you can. Oh, God, I might cry now. But I won’t. Goodbye.”
    â€œI’m not going yet.”
    â€œBut I am. I can’t watch you go. Come back someday.”
    â€œDo you think I’ll never come back?”
    She nodded, eyes shut.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “It’s so hard. I don’t know if I’m ready to live a hundred and thirty years. I wonder if anyone is or can be. It’s just,” he said, “it sounds so … lonely. Leaving everyone behind. Coming to the day when the last friend goes into the graveyard.”
    â€œYou’ll make new friends.”
    â€œYes, but there are no friends like the old ones. You can’t replace them.”
    â€œNo. You can’t.”
    She looked at the door.
    â€œIf you go, and you do decide to come back, to try and find us, don’t wait too long.”
    â€œOr it won’t work? I know. I’ll be too old. Must I decide before I’m … fifty?”
    â€œJust come back to us,” she said.
    And suddenly her chair was empty.

CHAPTER 30
    At the train station, there were sunflowers out on the track. Someone had been there ahead of him and if it was Elias Culpepper, he never knew.
    The train stopped this time, and he got on and as he bought a ticket from the conductor he asked, “Do you remember me?”
    The man looked at his face intently, scowled, and looked again and said, “Can’t say I do.”
    And the train gathered steam and chugged away from the station and Summerton, Arizona, was left behind.

CHAPTER 31
    The train flew across flat corn lands, over the horizon, by the lake and to the great turbulent city next to the lake, and he was running up the steps of the museum and walking among paintings to sit before the endlessly intriguing Seurat, where the Sunday strollers stood still in an eternal park.
    Now beside him sat Laura, glancing back and forth from the green park to him, stunned and questioning.
    At last she said, “What have you done to your face?”
    â€œMy face?” he said.
    â€œIt’s changed,” she said.
    â€œI didn’t change it.”
    â€œWhat is it, then?”
    â€œThings. Things changed it. ”
    â€œCan you change it back?”
    â€œI’ll try.”
    And then, as in the dream, but now in reality, he walked down the steps of the museum and all of his friends were waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
    There were Tom and Pete and Will and Sam and all the rest and they said, “Let’s go out for a long dinner.”
    He said, “No, I haven’t the time.”
    â€œYou’ve only just said hello,” they said.
    â€œIt’s not easy,” he said. “I’ve known you all for years. But, I’ve changed. And now I’ve got to go.”
    He looked back up and at the top of the stairs stood Laura. A single tear rolled down