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The crowd thought the boy in the wheelchair was helpless-until the wild mustang lowered his head to his boots

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wheelchair with his hands closed hard around the push rims.

He was seventeen, but nothing about him looked young in that moment. His face had sharpened over the last two years, not from age but from pain that had nowhere to go. His shoulders were narrow but strong, built from pushing himself through a world that had not been made for him. His boots,continue reading …

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