Sometimes, healing begins with a breaking. But even if you’re in a dark place, your story’s not over yet.
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She calls him Happy Feet. Because that’s all she sees of him – a pair of child’s bare feet, glowing hazy blue and more visible at night, pattering here and there behind her as she works on her computer. He skips around her room, silent but never still, telephatically inserting pieces of his childhood memories into her mind.