"I do not want you with me," I say gently. He will think it is a rejection. I stroke his hair back. This, then, is the last I will see of him. "Night Wind. Itztli. Micah." I kiss his forehead. I have, I have come to realise, loved all those parts of him. He was the places that Management's child hurt. "Goodbye."
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Date: 2014-01-27 12:19 am (UTC)