La boîte
One rainy evening, I discovered a box in his office.
Inside, memories of me from high school: words, photos, a CDI ticket written in my hand.
He had kept them.
« I gathered everything I could, » he told me calmly.
I felt frozen.
« It’s not love, Lucas. »
He looked at me with a disturbing tenderness.
« It’s the only form of love I know. Whole. Total. »
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