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Sometimes the discomfort of indecision was preferable to the pain of choice. Especially when so many of the decisions we made in a moment could alter the rest of our lives.
What were the odds? The odds that two men so shattered would meet? The odds that all our broken pieces would somehow fit together to create something whole?
It’s all or nothing. I had to remember that. If I gave him just a little, he’d end up taking it all.
Arrow wasn’t anything to me—except the potential to be everything.
