Chap­ter 201 of All the Col­ors of the Dark opens with Sam­my, in his usu­al cyn­i­cal man­ner, express­ing his dis­dain for a guard who con­fis­cat­ed a round of Beau­fort d’Été, a lux­u­ry he insists is vital for sur­vival in a place like this. He remarks, almost bit­ter­ly, that the first casu­al­ty of impris­on­ment is one’s palate, as small plea­sures like good food are quick­ly tak­en away, replaced by bland, unap­pe­tiz­ing meals. The con­ver­sa­tion takes a turn when Sam­my, ever the art enthu­si­ast, talks about his work, not­ing that one of his pieces, Grace Num­ber One, has the poten­tial to sell for sev­en fig­ures. Patch lis­tens qui­et­ly, show­ing lit­tle out­ward reac­tion, his thoughts drift­ing else­where. He is more pre­oc­cu­pied with Char­lotte, know­ing that she will be well tak­en care of by Misty and her grand­moth­er. Sam­my, notic­ing Patch’s dis­trac­tion, shifts the top­ic and asks about Charlotte’s cur­rent state. Patch reveals that she has resumed paint­ing, though in a more casu­al man­ner, and Sam­my humor­ous­ly com­ments that Char­lotte may have wast­ed a few can­vas­es in the process. This small bit of news brings a brief light­ness to Patch’s mood, offer­ing a fleet­ing moment of relief in an oth­er­wise heavy day.

Sam­my, always ready to help, offers to cov­er the tab for their drinks, but Patch instead asks for a per­son­al favor. He requests that Sam­my go to the attic of the Mad House to retrieve a spe­cif­ic box con­tain­ing his child­hood belong­ings, among them a June 1965 issue of Playboy—a sim­ple request that holds more mean­ing for Patch than Sam­my could real­ize. Sam­my, eager to show off and demon­strate his own expe­ri­ence with such things, begins to boast about his own col­lec­tion of items like the one Patch is seek­ing. How­ev­er, Patch cuts him off, sig­nal­ing that this moment is not about Sammy’s antics. The light­heart­ed exchange is abrupt­ly halt­ed when Sam­my deliv­ers the dev­as­tat­ing news that Nor­ma, the woman who had been like fam­i­ly to Patch, passed away that morn­ing. The news hangs heav­i­ly in the air, and the atmos­phere in the room shifts from casu­al cama­raderie to solem­ni­ty. Patch, though vis­i­bly shak­en by the loss, calm­ly instructs Sam­my to relay a sim­ple mes­sage to Nor­ma, a request that Sam­my agrees to with­out hes­i­ta­tion, rec­og­niz­ing the sig­nif­i­cance of this task for his friend.

As the con­ver­sa­tion winds down, Patch finds him­self lost in thought, observ­ing a lit­tle girl in the room who is draw­ing with crayons. The bright, vivid col­ors of her art­work stand in stark con­trast to the weight of the con­ver­sa­tion that just tran­spired. Sam­my, now prepar­ing to leave, gets up, and Patch’s mind wan­ders to their shared his­to­ry. Despite Sammy’s fre­quent trips under the pre­text of busi­ness, Patch real­izes that Sam­my nev­er once revis­it­ed the lost acres of their past, the part of their shared his­to­ry that still lingers in Patch’s mem­o­ry. He recalls how, dur­ing the arraign­ment, Sam­my remained calm, sip­ping from a flask while Patch’s hands trem­bled in anx­i­ety. Their com­mu­ni­ca­tion over the years had always been min­i­mal but meaningful—short quotes, most­ly from Oscar Wilde, and post­cards reflect­ing the col­ors and emo­tions of Patch’s art. These small, qui­et exchanges had always been enough between them, a form of com­mu­ni­ca­tion that didn’t require elab­o­rate words to con­vey their shared expe­ri­ences.

Sam­my had always respect­ed Patch’s need for silence, nev­er once ask­ing him to explain his actions or to open up about his past. Instead, he silent­ly acknowl­edged the weight of Patch’s strug­gles, under­stand­ing that some things couldn’t be spo­ken aloud. Sammy’s response, adjust­ing his hat and sink­ing deep­er into his blaz­er, affirms that he nev­er need­ed to know the details. The bond between them, though forged in silence, is unspo­ken yet pro­found. Their friend­ship isn’t based on grand ges­tures or con­stant con­ver­sa­tion but on mutu­al under­stand­ing, respect, and shared moments of vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty. In a world that often demands expla­na­tions, their con­nec­tion tran­scends the need for val­i­da­tion or jus­ti­fi­ca­tion. It is a rare and endur­ing friend­ship, built not on words, but on the qui­et acknowl­edg­ment of each other’s pres­ence and strug­gles. In many ways, this con­nec­tion is more mean­ing­ful than any spo­ken con­ver­sa­tion could ever be, as it speaks to the depth of their under­stand­ing and the com­fort they find in each other’s com­pa­ny.