The Untitled Love Story
I whispered.
When I had asked about his family and his past, the worst I had expected was a distant, emotionally unavailable father and slight childhood bullying from neighbourhood kids.
What I got, however, was...I don't even think I can possibly describe how I felt listening to all that. I began to understand why he felt the need to tell me the story.
That day in the park, I had tackled him to the ground and pinned his wrists together above his head, possibly triggering his PTSD.
"After the funeral, I was exposed to a new type of challenge and suffering." He sighed, a year dropping from his eye.
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