His expression appeared as a physical riddle. “Without the amity of timing, a person who would have loved you more than anything, forever, may sail right past you and into the ocean of what could have been, and you are left wondering while you drown in the void of your solitude.”
The boy felt his stomach churn. He clasped his knees tightly together, as though it would somehow give him the courage to face what he dreaded. An ache arose in the back of his throat. He felt jealous that his father at least encountered someone he could have loved. The boy had nothing. He was born in a void of solitude and to this day he hadn’t been able to escape it.
“Will you tell me why the two of you parted?” he quietly asked.
The man watched his son’s complexion grow pale as the boy drifted into a fragile state. The man felt that one wrong choice of words could have a devastating effect, and so he thought carefully before he spoke.
“They say that the flow of time cleanses the past, that it heals all wounds of the heart,” he replied. “But I know firsthand that it doesn’t. Wounds I cannot speak of still exist. They never heal.”
The above was an excerpt of this: myBook.to/Onora1
