I was happy, but in a genuinely raw way. The kind of happiness that grows from the muck. The kind that made me impossible for anyone spineless. I have questions that need answering. I want to know everything. Your story, your nightmares, about your family and all the cities you’ve visited. So we talked. And I listened. Christ, he showed me his soul, like he was saving me. When, really, I was just going somewhere new, vicariously through him. I was terrified of the things I should love, and loved the things I was terrified by. We spoke the same pains. Who hurts you more than those closest? Yea, I was twisted, and confused, and not well rested. But I listened. I listened like time didn’t matter. And, for once, everything stood still. Everything except my heart. That would always be wild, in a genuinely raw way.