The pain is his chest rose up quickly, just when he thought things were getting better.
Fooled again, nothing was better. When she talked the plans did not involve anyone but herself. He wondered if she heard herself? No mention of anyone else, no mention of things lined up in front of the world. The river rushed past them, and he thought perhaps he should just jump inside it.
The young boy took his hand then. A child he had raised as his own. A lie, but a worthy one. He would continue to get up, work, sometimes tirelessly, to make sure the young kid had a future worth looking towards. He gave himself small selfish things, but he needed those things to keep going.
He wanted a drink, his liver did not.
He wanted to scream, but the pain was so numb as it ate away at his insides.
No doctor to call on, no therapist to dive into. Alone in the world but he would do it with honor. A wicked recipe for life, but sometimes there were rainbows with dreams inside.
And a small childs hand, a love that couldn’t extinguish, to make a better future.