Malone

The next morning, I’m awake when my three-thirty alarm goes off. Awake because I’ve spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about what Slater told me at the field house. Realization and truth can be a shitty thing, and I’ve been hit in the face with it. 

For so long I’ve convinced myself that I made the right decision back then. That no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much I second-guessed it, it was the right thing to do.

After ...