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They’ve left his heart too open. Forgotten to close back up the armor of his chest. And now he feels … too much.
Other people would call him sensitive, but it is more than that. The dial is broken, the volume turned all the way up. Moments of joy register as brief, but ecstatic. Moments of pain stretch long and unbearably loud.
His heart has a draft. It lets in light. It lets in storms. It lets in everything.
