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You do not write your life with words, the monster said. You write it with actions. What you think is not important. It is only important what you do.
Holding her. He knew it would come, and soon, maybe even this 12:07. The moment she would slip from his grasp, no matter how tightly he held on.
But not this moment, the monster whispered, still close. Not just yet. Conor held tightly onto his mother. And by doing so, he could finally let her go.

