In an attempt to drift off into an fitful rest for that Friday night, my mind was noisy with ambient sounds and imaginary voices. A small voice, a male one and perhaps familiar, repeated over and over in the distant background of an alternate reality:
`Why did you do it, Flynn?! Flynn, why did you do it?! Why?!`
If I only could say `I’m sorry` before I died, I would have said `I love you` instead.
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