“Are you all right?” “No.” I looked around to make sure the woman who handed me the phone wasn’t listening. There were too many people around, all living their own lives, worrying about themselves. “I’m trying to talk myself into doing this even if I come in last,” I admitted. “You’re about to run a marathon. Do you think it matters if you come in last as long as you finish it?” he asked. I blinked and let the anxious tears pool in my eyes for the first time. “But what if I can’t finish it?” The voice on the other end let out a sigh. “You can finish the marathon. Graves aren’t quitters.”
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