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“Mr. Hinkle felt like an intruder. Yet he couldn’t pull himself away. It was thirty minutes. It was a lifetime of pain. It was a mountain of misunderstandings. It was a flood of vulnerability. So many emotions erupted from every nook and cranny of that room. He couldn’t call it healing because here was no closure. There was no moving past this. If anything, there’d only be regret and sorrow. Mr. Hinkle whispered the two words synonymous with too late: “If only.” — NA Leigh
Mr. Hinkle felt like an intruder. Yet he couldn’t pull himself away. It was thirty minutes. It was a lifetime of pain. It was a mountain of misunderstandings. It was a flood of vulnerability. So many emotions erupted from every nook and cranny of that room. He couldn’t call it healing because here was no closure. There was no moving past this. If anything, there’d only be regret and sorrow.
Mr. Hinkle whispered the two words synonymous with too late: “If only.