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I hate that I do.
I hate even more that when I start walking again, the ache in my chest feels different.
Still there.
Still real.
But no longer like the whole story.
And somewhere behind me, because the universe apparently enjoys theatrical timing, I hear Drew shout to one of his teammates:
“Tell everybody I’m busy. I’m negotiating.”
I keep walking without turning around.
But I’m smiling.
Just a little.
Which, under the circumstances, feels like the beginning of something dangerous.
