Different chapter. Same drill.
Slight slash here, if you squint. Blink and you'll miss it.
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III

The Way Things Aren't

Sometimes I have dreams in which he's back. In which he's beaten the odds again, spat on everyone's expectations, and come running triumphantly into my arms.

I always wake reluctantly from these dreams, but sleep eludes me whenever they're over.

So I stare at the ceiling and wish sleep and damned dreams would either take me forever or leave me alone.

Maybe I deserve the torture, I think sometimes.

Certainly I deserve it more than he did.

But dreams and sleep are not men, and have no conscience. So they torture me with visions of the way things aren't.

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