Dallas sits on the grass. His long legs stretch out in front of him, and I join him. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know. The apartment felt so empty with you both gone, and I had this idea that I’d come up to the field and kick around for shits and giggles. Except, I got here, and I just couldn’t.” “What are you afraid of?” “Failing,” I blurt out. I’ve thought it, but it’s the first time I’ve voiced it since my injury. “Just because you’re scared to do something doesn’t mean you’re going to fail.” “I know. It’s just hard to be here and not associate it with who I was before. But when I’m not
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