He believed in me. We were friends, in a strange way bound to one another. Abandoned into this world, I would like to think that he wanted to believe in me.
But I was busy. I was distracted. I was trying to take care of my daughter. To get her to school and coach her on homework. To buy a house and an adjoining orchard. To talk to my wife. To be married to my wife. I don’t know what he thought, but I believed he just wanted to see me. I visited best I could, but it became sporadic. And then I left. I had to go to Telluride and then Hopi to help with the movers. Penny and Michael and their daughter Loren stepped in. Each morning one or the other would try and they would feed and sit with him.
Penny called while I was away. Poe wasn’t doing well, she said. He seemed sad. He was hiding away. He seemed to miss me, she said. He had stopped preening and a wasp had stung him in the eye and it was swollen shut.
He just wanted me to be there for him, to listen to him, to give him hope, to tend to a broken wing.
But isn’t that what betrayal is? Distraction? An increment of cuts?
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Depuis son lancement Atlantico avait fait le choix de laisser ouvert à tous la possibilité de
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