The stomach tightens and sinks. The heart and lungs follow. It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection. It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse. A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time. This time it’ll be different, you say. Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?
He’s a man who seems older than he is as he stoops over a broom and pushes dried leaves and debris off the street. His task is never-ending. Day or night, you will find him cleaning the square under the shadow of the castle.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?