In the beginning, I was a boy given a chance. I thought I knew what I wanted, and I thought I knew what it would take. I begged for the very situation I was sitting in and I wanted to laugh, but I was still too shocked to do anything but pace outside of this door, my drying dress shoes squeaking against the linoleum. I shucked my jacket somewhere but details like that didnâ€™t matter. I hated the way my shirt felt against my skin, crusted with the riverâ€™s dirt and salt, but I remembered what jumping in had meant at that moment. I looked at the door in front of me, itâ€™s unremarkable oak mocking me. Behind that door was my future.
|Souls Collide by Cynthia A. Rodriguez|