Take a look, Gary.

You always was good with gardening. Eight years. You got a cigarette? It doesn't have to be so frightening. No, no, I have to write to her later. You can leave. Don't worry, I'll catch you if you fall. It's not my fucking fault, man. What's going on? And you know why? Come closer. But you're not locked up. So how can I help you, Mrs. Houston? Good night. I knew I was totally on my own now.