“Look, Hayes, you don’t have to do this. I’m not asking you to talk with me. I can be…a lot…sometimes.” Ah, and the waterworks are right on time. Despondency wades through my bloodstream, subsequently siphoning all the air out of my lungs. My chest feels tight, my breath is bated, and tears swipe at the backs of my eyes. “I know. I want to,” Hayes counters. “And I don’t scare easily.” You should, I say to myself. But instead, all I offer him is a watery smile.
