“I can’t give you all the things I once hoped to,” he says. “But I can give you a family and a home. I love you, Al. I just hope you can love a simple mechanic.” I wind my fingers through the wavy hair at his neck. I admire this side of him most of all . . . his fragility, his flaws. His strength in spite of them. And now, he sees that strength with as much clarity and confidence as I always have. “There will never be anything simple about you,” I whisper. “And I already love you.
-A.G. Howard
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