In Chap­ter 245 of “All the Col­ors of the Dark,” Patch finds him­self in a storm, seek­ing refuge in a barn near his house. As he push­es the large door shut against the pelt­ing rain, he is enveloped in dark­ness, a reflec­tion of his inner tur­moil filled with fear, hope, and exhaus­tion. Sit­ting on the hard wood­en slats, sur­round­ed by the scent of hay, he clos­es his eyes and con­tem­plates the weight of his search for a girl—one that has con­sumed sig­nif­i­cant years of his life.

Patch grap­ples with the pro­found loss he has suf­fered: a daugh­ter, a friend, a love, and a par­ent. His jour­ney has tak­en him through var­i­ous life events, from boy­hood in Mon­ta Clare to a tumul­tuous path involv­ing crime and impris­on­ment. As he lies back, he bat­tles the emo­tion­al dev­as­ta­tion he feels, real­iz­ing that he has lost far more than he can eas­i­ly mea­sure.

Amidst this intro­spec­tion, Patch feels a ghost­ly hand slip into his, stir­ring a mix of long­ing and sor­row. He instinc­tive­ly under­stands that this pres­ence, though vivid, is a fig­ment of his imag­i­na­tion, an echo from a cher­ished past that inter­twines with his cur­rent real­i­ty. The phan­tom girl gen­tly caress­es his face, caus­ing tears to min­gle with his mem­o­ries. When she speaks, her voice res­onates haunt­ing­ly famil­iar: “Some­one once told me you could hear a smile.”

In this poignant moment, he becomes thir­teen again, revis­it­ing a chance to relive mem­o­ries. He responds dis­mis­sive­ly, “Bull­shit,” but her gen­tle insis­tence directs him to affirm their bond. He reas­sures her that despite the dark­ness and her strength, he would always pri­or­i­tize her safe­ty. As she shares her under­stand­ing that he is smil­ing, Patch acknowl­edges the authen­tic­i­ty of his words, affirm­ing a deep con­nec­tion that remains stead­fast through time.

As the chap­ter con­cludes, Patch ten­der­ly speaks her name—“Grace”—to which she affirms, cap­tur­ing the essence of love and mem­o­ry that tran­scends the tri­als of life .