He Asked Me to Stop Talking About My Cancer

crying.

Not much. Just enough. Eyes red, voice rough. The exact amount a man thinks people will believe if he needs to be seen as wounded.

“I made a mistake,” he said. “I was scared and I said the wrong thing.”

I looked at him and saw all twelve years at once, which sounds dramatic but that’s how it hit. The anniversary trip where he sulked because I continue reading …