But I am breathing in the empty, the blank of possibility. It tastes like autumn days soon to come, like watching leaves and betting on the first to fall, like hope. And for a minute, I can pretend that my parent's voices didn't sound so sad. I can pretend that he missed my stutter. I can pretend that the truth doesn't feel like lying. I can try and believe that I made the right decision.
I didn't.
No one knows that more than I.
And I don't know if it's something I plan on sharing.
But it's something I regret.
