He always feels it in his stomach.A hollowing anguish, coiling around his guts, taking up every space, rough and sore.It’s shock at first, smothering all other emotions.Shock is followed by betrayal, anger, and cold-hearted resolve. Tears keep falling and falling, wetting his hands, clothes, his phone, their smiling faces. Then, he thinks it’s clear enough. He has a new love, a new life, and isn’t it better and easier if he doesn’t have to explain anything to him? The photos disappears in the bin, and he’ll pretend it was never his to wear.He doesn’t want to hear it anyway. Not a word, not a single one, not from his mouth, not in his voice, not while seeing his face. Never again. He understands everything now. It all makes sense. He can get over it, he will, he’s done it before. He can’t get over it.He takes out the pictures from the bin before anyone
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