I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.
It was the kind of love that, sooner or later, cornered you into a choice: either you tore free or you stayed and withstood its rigor even as it squeezed you into something smaller than yourself.
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Of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.
