HIM ALL ALONG
I stood in front of him; for bountiful seconds, I stood, staring at him while he kept his face lower in refusal to look at me.
His uniform wrinkled at the collar, evidence that someone had roughly held him there.
“Are you alright?”
He shook his head endlessly, still bent on keeping his face against mine.
“Are you crying?”
He nodded without delay, and I almost smiled at how cute he looked.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, and on a stop, he nodded.
Now, he doesn’t look cute, and nothing about admitting he was hurt sounds funny. I lifted his face, and indeed, Larozo had dared to tear the skin off his forehead.
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