I knew I hurt him, I always did. He said I didn’t, said he understood, that it was okay. But then he’d lose himself in the nothingness, looking miserable. That vacant stare made me want to smack myself. I should stay away, cut him loose—it would be more fair to him.
Something always made me take him back, though. He was young and alive. His laugh would tease a smile out of me, but I had nothing left to give. My wish to live had vanished when they lowered Adam’s casket into the ground. I am half a man.
If you’re interested in another take, check out Bealevon Nolan’s 100-words story to the same picture!