PREVIEW
... it...
I watched it for a few seconds longer than I should have, arms folded, pulse thick in my ears. That man had the kind of confidence you didn’t see anymore—not the fake kind. Not bravado. The quiet kind that came from doing things others wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
I’d faced worse than men who talk smooth and make bold promises. I’d buried friends in shit fields behind half-burned refugee camps. I’d dragged a broken girl out of a wrecked bus during the chaotic riots. I wasn’t green ...
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