Donny looked at me. He looked at me in the eyes. Every scene of every moment we’d ever been through together was playing, fast-forwarding in them. He saw it. Saw the change. Saw that something had died in me. My will had died. My childhood had died. He saw that I was done fighting. He saw it. He smiled. He grabbed my hand and slapped a half hug on me. “Right on, man, we’ll holler atcha later.” Donny held my gaze. I looked away.
