By the time Joey gets back to his apartment Henry is kneeling on the floor, digging through piles of letters, notes, and storyboards.
“Henry! There you are!” He wheels over to his side, clapping a hand on his sketchy shoulder. “You did good this last time. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to fix things. You always do!”
Henry doesn’t respond. In his lap is a letter Joey had received from Henry a few years ago - not the self-caricature kneeling before him but the actual person, wising him well over the holidays.
“Joey.” Henry’s voice is dull, emotionless. “Who am I?”
Joey stops smiling. “You’re Henry, of course.”
“No. This-” He holds up the paper. “-This was sent by Henry. The real Henry. I didn’t send this.”
“Listen, Henry. I’ve always said that life isn’t what you’re given, but what you make of it. You’re technically a drawing, but that just means that you’re better than the real Henry!” Joey plucks the letter from his hands, adding a soft “You won’t run off like he did’ under his breath.
“Linda… I wanted to see her if I escaped, reassure her that I was all right… But she didn’t even know I was missing, did she? Because I was never missing.” He looks up at the ceiling.
“Who cares about Linda?”
Henry flinches as he rips the paper in half in front of him. He stares at the halves as they fall to the floor, not moving to pick them up.
“The fact that she doesn’t care about you means that you shouldn’t care about her either! Just forgot her, like you do everything else. I’m here, Henry. I care.” Joey places a hand on his back reassuringly.
“I care.”
Joey snaps back to attention as Henry stands up, pacing.
“When I was trapped in there, when I wasn’t sure if I would make it out alive… she was the only thing keeping me going! But it was all fake, the studio’s fake, I’m fake! There’s no damn point to any of this Joey! There’s not-”
Henry closes his eyes, crumpling back to the floor. Joey returns to his side, setting a hand on his shaking shoulder.
“Please.” The animator’s voice is wavering on the edge of tears. “Just tell it again already. Let me forget.”
Joey removes his hand and wheels himself out of the way, sighing. Maybe some other time, then. “Henry, come visit the old workshop. There’s something I need to show you.”
Henry’s pose immediately relaxes as all of his new memories fade away, leaving him a clean slate for the beginning of the story. He stands up and walks through the front door almost hypnotically, disappearing into the sketchy world that’s appeared behind it.
Joey picks up the remains of the letter and burns it.
