And I hated it.
Because I remembered the boy who had walked across an entire ballroom when everyone else was too uncomfortable to come near me.
The boy who had made me laugh when I had almost forgotten how.
So I pulled out a chair.
“Sit with me.”
“I’m working.”
“Five minutes.”
He hesitated.
Then sat.
At first, Jason avoided talking about himself.
He asked about my life.
My work.
My recovery.
He listened as I told him about the years of therapy and the first time I stood without assistance.
“That must have been incredible,” he said.
“It was.”
Then I looked at him.
“What happened to you?”
His smile disappeared.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Finally, he sighed.
“Life.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He laughed softly.
“No. I guess it isn’t.”
Jason told me he had received a basketball scholarship after high school.
