I find myself, angel, days and nights and five-months-later, in an immovable state of ‘freeze’. Surveying the room, tempering the mood, in preparation for a volatile eruption which, now, no longer comes. Awaiting a tensed jaw, a clenched fist, an inanimate object launched across the room, I’m baffled when the boy before me responds with reason.

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When will that feeling dissipate?