I couldn’t give up on my global optimism. I’ve always believed that the world is far friendlier than it is not, far more loving than hateful. Fear is like a thorn in your foot. It may be proportionally small in relation to the body, but it hurts and demands attention and everything halts until the thorn gets pulled. But dammit, I felt stupid, feigning my optimism here in Nexpa. Playing it cool. Wondering if I’d be shot by accident or on purpose. There is truth in a mother’s worry. There is also exaggeration and unfairness. If I die, she wins, I thought. If I live, I win.
