“Does it get easier?” She looked up at me, tears still staining her cheeks. I knew she wanted to hear something that could make it better, that would take the sting away. But it always gets worse.
“No, not really.” I walked for the door, and I could hear how she was breathing behind me. The way she always breathed when she was holding in a cry. “It just gets... Different.”
I left before I could hear what she was holding back. I didn’t want to see how all I could do after my hurt was pass it on to others.
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