And he shot an arrow right through my chest.
Surprisingly, he shot a second arrow.
Then a third one.
And a fourth.
Then a fifth.
I pull the five arrows from my bleeding heart, they were practically the same, but each of them had a word etched in their individual shafts:
Suffering, Loss, Hope, Joy and Passion. I could tell that they were different in some sort of way until I looked at their arrowheads.
I was stunned.
Each of them bears your name.
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