Not in the “let’s catch up.” Sort of way.
But the “this is your last chance.” Standing next to the water. Toes dipping just above the edge. I could fall in. But I can't swim. I wonder how deep it is. It wasn’t him this time. It was me. Maybe I feel guilty. Maybe I know that he is right. He is sorry. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine. I fought. He ran. Maybe I resented him for that. Not for leaving. But for going back to something just as bad. Sometimes, I wonder how he’s doing. What he will amount to. I run it over and over in my mind. Is there something that I could do to help him? Does he just need an opportunity? Or does he need a miracle? Because I’m a little short on those lately.
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Tennessee Martin
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