I am not a sword. “What?” he asked, surprise coloring the word. I am not a sword! I squeezed my eyes shut against the hot tears that rose immediately. I didn’t want to share any of this with him. But my thoughts were unruly, and he was listening intently. I am not a weapon. I don’t want to be a weapon! “You are what you are. I am what I am. It matters little what we want.”
