"I still don't understand," he said to no one in particular, in the place where his mind went every night.
"Your kindness," said a voice from behind him. He turned, and was confronted with himself.
"My kindness?" he asked himself.
"Your kindness killed her! She could not stand it. She was forever torn between the fantasy that you'd written for her and her ..." Even his other self could not finish the thought.
And he though that, maybe, he could just never wake up again.