I’d like to try living, in the time I was granted

As always, there is a memory for this one, too: You see a man laughing cheerfully, seated across a campfire from you, exuding a warmth that you feel has to be genuine. Regret is your own loneliness, the greater understanding of a camaraderie and team you could have had, but has been taken from you.

The other person snorts again. "It's not a matter of stopping. It's a matter of never existing at all. I'm guessing no one told you about that."