I feel like he’s wrapped in chain mail, impervious to anything that requires him to bare his heart, deflecting any warmth people want to share with him. Every so often, though, if he moves at the right angle, I notice a chink in his armor. If I don’t slide in quickly enough, it disappears, and he returns to being fully hidden. Within those glimpses, I catch sight of someone else. Someone warmer, happier, more expressive and openhearted. He feels like a fragile decoy of himself, and I want to see what he’s like when he’s not hiding. His expressions, movements, and words are the distant echoes
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