"No," you say "the house would just take you too." you say
"Well, I mean I feel bad just leaving you here like this. There's got to be something I can do." he says
"Visit. If you can I mean. You may not be able to find the park again, but if you do, just visit sometimes." you ask him. It's more then you should ask, you know that, but you need something. Glen sighs and nods
"Okay, I'll try. Want me to bring anything?" he asks, you nod.
"Yes, anything, it really doesn't matter what." you say to him. A comic book, a hamburger, even a pamphlet from some guy handing out fliers on the street would be some sort of welcome change of pace. Though in all honesty you don't expect to ever see him again. As he walks towards the hedge maze he turns and offers a friendly wave and walks through the bushes as though the were nothing. You're sad to see him go, but it's a welcome sort of sadness. You may never- probably will never- see him again, but you've won a small victory today in not trying to trap him here. As the sun sets you walk back upstairs and curl up in bed, sleep comes easier tonight then it has in quite some time.
To your surprise, he does come again the next day, his familiar voice calling out a "hello" from the downstairs foyer. You quickly get dressed and run downstairs to greet him, with guarded enthusiasm. He brings you a few comic books, meant for young girls of course. It seems he still doesn't quite believe your story. Still you happily accept them and talk, mainly about his day and things in his life. You mainly talk out on the porch, having him inside makes you too nervous that the house will trap him here as well. As the sun begins to set you tell him again that he should go home, which he does, offering you the same friendly wave before he disappears into the hedges. You once again wonder if he'll ever return.
His visits become a regular occurrence, he brings regular news of the outside world, and a few books and comics, etc. You learn to read them fast since all to often they end up mysteriously disappearing - the house's work no doubt.. He doesn't visit every day, naturally. But usually at least once a week, each time you send him home not expecting the house will ever allow him to return, and each time you're pleasantly surprised when he does. Other than this unexpected kindness, the house doesn't change. You still strike out into the maze in a vain attempt to find your way out. You still cook your own meals, but pantry doesn't seem to empty completely, and all too often you still find yourself overcome with the melancholy of your situation and sit in some room of the house crying and begging, fruitlessly, to be set free. Still you've gained something this house either can't, or isn't willing to, take away. You've gained a friend.