And she’s a sweetheart, too. She hides notes around the house for
me. Well, she used to. Not since her . . . never mind.”
“They sound wonderful.”
“What makes you say that?”
He takes his hands out. “Nothing. Why are you here?”
“I tried to do something stupid and failed.”
He winces. “Why’d you do it?”
He leans forward. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Please, tell me.”
I glance at the window. “He drank himself to death. I was a
teenager and I thought he did it on purpose. I hated him.” I run my
hands across my face. “When I grew up a little, that hatred stopped
making sense and I started hurting. I wasn’t prepared for hurt.” I
shift uneasily. “I’m trying to move on.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Oh.”
“It was inevitable, though.”
“What was?”
“Forgiving him.”
He nods, carefully. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Never mind.”
“Alright.” I frown at the clock. “We should sleep.”
“Do you know what room you’re in?”
“Well, it was nice talking to you, Martin. I’ll see you in
group.”
He mumbles “goodnight” and heads to the front desk to
grab his clothes. His footsteps echo and the bags crackle as he
picks them up. Just before he turns the corner to the men’s corridor,
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