A while passed before he nodded toward my wrist. “Why did you do it?” he said. It wasn’t a topic I was particularly keen on discussing, especially with someone I hardly knew. But the way Paul was watching me, with the utmost level of attention, and no trace of judgment, made me willing to offer him a response. “I was depressed,” I said, shrugging. “I was a stupid kid. I didn’t mean it.” Paul stared at me like he wanted more. “I couldn’t feel anything,” I finally told him. “I couldn’t feel the truth. Does that make sense? Do you know what the truth feels like?” “I know what it sounds like.” We
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