“Sometimes,” Andray said, tears streaming down his face, “sometimes the world seem so fucked up, like nothing make any sense at all. Like there’s no sense at all. Just—just vicious like that. Just vicious. But then sometimes, sometimes, it’s like—like it all fit together perfect, like a puzzle. Like you find this little piece, maybe five years ago, maybe ten years ago. And then years and years later, you see where it fits. And you see it made sense all along. Only you was too blind to see it. Too small to see it all at once.” He sniffed. “Don’t seem like that now, though.” I wanted to hug him
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