Some might call it a guilty conscience, but I didn’t do anything wrong. Inaction does not equal blame. Besides, I didn’t want to get involved.
The brain can trick the eye into seeing all sorts of things that aren’t there. Personally, all I see is a swirl of dirt, or remnants of a long-rotted tree trunk.
It’s not like I can actually make out the outline of his skull, the curve of his jaw, the indent of the temporal bone, an oval eye socket. His death was not my fault, and he is not haunting me everywhere I go.