Freedom's Price, Love's Reward

t. The local hiking trail, the spot where my backpack and a deliberately damaged phone wou

out, as usual. His c

d. This wasn't p

lumped over his desk, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside

ia

en they cleared, locking onto me. There was a raw

said, his v

stupid question.

to on his desk, turned face down. "

en. Something de

he photo. It was a group of young men i

u knew?" I

es. "My best friend. Anniver

wasn't the cold, distant automat

y. I, who always had word

my hand on his shoulder. He flinched, t

orry,

intense, searching. The distance that always separated us s

voice barely a whispe

stuck to the plan, kept my dista

I st

. About his friend. About loss. About things that had nothi

talking

his hand tracing my jawline, his thum

. Tomorrow, I wa

urge to live, to feel somethin

isse

ulmination of a year of unspoken tension, of sha

ing "death" – it all swirled into

m. The frozen river betwe

sn't a sham. It was raw, passi

ening out into sleep. I lay awake, star

st uninterested. There was a fire i

had I