[b]Delia Owens
Please don’t talk to me about isolation. No one has to tell me how it changes a person. I have lived it. I am isolation, Kya whispered with a slight edge.[/b]
He thought: Only here am I not.
Faces change with life’s toll, but eyes remain a window to what was, and she could see him there.
He wondered about his own eyes then.
Biology sees right and wrong as the same color in different light.
You know, for better or worse.
Death’s crude pluck, as always, stealing the show.
On the other hand, it all comes natural.
His dad had told him many times that the definition of a real man is one who cries without shame, reads poetry with his heart, feels opera in his soul, and does what’s necessary to defend a woman.
Well, that’s one definition, sure.
Life had made her an expert at mashing feelings into a storable size.
Life does things like that. But only for some of course.