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Chapter 37

I swear, he has tears in his eyes, which are all red and glassy. His cheeks are just as red, probably cold. The man shivers where he stands, perhaps nervous because of this meeting, unsure of how I will respond to his approach.

“Jory,” I whisper his name. “How are you?”

“I’m not doing so great,” he replies in a somber tone. A tear falls out of his left eye and rolls down and over a cheek.

My heart falls to my knees. Why is he so upset? And why is he crying? What has happened in his life that is so horrible? How can I help him? The problem is, I don’t know what to do or say if he does need help, particularly after how badly I have treated him. Shame causes me to feel this way. So, I keep my distance, hold myself together, and simply ask, “What is it, Jory? What’s going on?”

“You,” he whispers, sniffling, shedding tears.

I hold my ground, although I begin to break down inside, becoming an emotional wreck, melting because of his sadness and tears. “What about me?”