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I can no longer call what I feel for Lennix obsession, mere attraction, or anything less than what it is. I’m absolutely, irrevocably in love with her. I know this because it feels as though Abe is holding that gun to my head. I know that if her life is over, in every way that counts, so is mine. We are inextricably joined at the heart, even separated by thousands of miles.
The vibrant, beautiful woman who laughed with me only minutes ago is already gone. This is a sobbing, broken shell, and my heart aches knowing that other woman is being consumed in those flames. Owen is gone, and so is she. We’re standing in one of life’s awful moments where your breath is a comma, marking the space before and after tragedy, punctuating that nothing will ever be the same.
“Robert Kennedy said, ‘There are people in every time and every land who want to stop history in its tracks. They fear the future, mistrust the present, and invoke the security of a comfortable past which, in fact, never existed.’
‘They buried us, but they didn’t know we were seeds.’
