There was something at the edge of Silas’s lips that might have been a smile, and might have been regret, and might just have been a trick of the shadows. “Good-bye, then, Silas.” Bod held out his hand, as he had when he was a small boy, and Silas took it, in a cold hand the color of old ivory, and shook it gravely. “Good-bye, Nobody Owens.
-Neil Gaiman
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