I had a realization. The dude was genuinely moved. The little bit I’d shared about my life was akin to some sort of great Oscar acceptance speech to him. I’d made him feel something, and with his help, I could make things sound even better—at least to people like him. The fact that people like Mom, Pops, or Gio would find it absurd no longer mattered as much. Before Mr. Martin, I’d never attempted to put labels on things that simply happened to me or people close to me. To put them on scales and see which experience, which hardship weighed more. I had never attempted to list these experiences,
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