“How am I supposed to do this?” I asked. “What do you mean?” “Go home. How do I go back to normal?” “No one is expecting you to go back to normal,” he said. “You go home, you sleep. You wake up in a different world. People will tell you it gets easier, but it never does. There are good days, and there are days when the pain hits like a fucking freight train.” I swallowed around the thickness gathering in my throat. Zahariev had never talked to me about losing his father, but listening to him now, I suddenly realized how hard it must have been. Not only had he lost his father, but he’d
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