Chapter 46. A Blue Sun New Year

CAMUEL

January 1st, xxxy

IN LIFE, IT IS said to know when to cut your losses and move on. Lick your wounds and move on. Face the other cheek and move on. In essence, know when it is wise to move on.

Whoever said those platitudes were fuckheads. When the fuck has that helped anyone? How the fuck will someone know when it is wise to move on? When you've spent a major part of your life with someone who knows you better than you know yourself?

When you've shared the greatest memories and pain known to anyone? When you're shellshocked at what you've done and any redeeming qualities you've ever had has gone down the drain?

Moving on is brushing things aside. Pretending you're well enough to forget: for the grudge of the past or the one you have for yourself to be ignored like a mild case of cough.

Camuel has never able to brush things aside. His body, his mind, his mouth has never been able to cover up what he is feeling. It is a good thing in the long