Back then when I got home from work, you were always there waiting for me. And that was all I needed. Just you. But on that day, when I came back home the only thing there was that pocket watch; that and a small piece of paper that just had one word written across it: farewell. For some reason, I didn't feel sad or broken up - it just didn't seem real. But slowly I realized that it was real; that you were gone. And little by little I felt something inside of me go numb. After six months I made a kind of bet with myself; a pledge, that I would leave this planet and start a new life if you didn't return by the time the watch stopped. I didn't come here to blame you, I... I just wanted to know why. Why you disappeared like that.
— Cowboy Bebop
by Hirokazu Yamada, Shin'ichirô Watanabe