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Chapter 73 - Grief

* * * Max’s POV * * *

I wish I can say that over the years I have gotten used to people dying. I never have. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I care for dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter” either. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My pain and my scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even burned or lacerated, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see the beauty of what once was. It has been years since I had seen my mother, and yet I have always hoped that she was alive and well. I had loved her deeply, the way a boy does. The way a mummy’
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