“Then I go back to my place, I guess.” He stops his horse from walking, so Goldilocks also stops. “This is your home.” He looks up at me. “I don’t know where my home is,” I admit. “Maybe in all of this I’m going to find my home.” “Your home is right here,” he repeats, “right fucking here.” “Once upon a time, I thought it was.” I pick my hand up and wipe away the tear. “I’m not so sure anymore.” “I am,” he declares, his shoulders back. “I’m not sure of a lot of things these days.” His voice comes out shaky. My body gets tight waiting for the rest of his statement, except it’s nothing that I
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