( In his hand, the umbrella looks large, disproportionate. Cut to the size of a greater man, who isn't here to hold it. He struggles, briefly, with the weight. Then, nodding: )

Of course it's got that, it's got everything. It's beautiful. It's got... houses and carriages, and... and you're all in it. Even if you're sick. I'm very grateful.

( Just as he dissolves, boy to debris to powder to air — to gone, umbrella left behind him. )