Before You Let Go
The wind moved between us, cold enough to make my hands ache.
“I don’t like the way I am,” he said quietly. “I know you think I’m doing this because I want to be difficult, pero hindi. I don’t like being angry all the time. I don’t like snapping at people. I don’t like feeling tired even after sleeping. I just…” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to be anything else anymore.”
My eyes burned.
“It’s not too late,” I said.
“That sounds nice.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not that easy, Lyra.”