Hindsight is a bitch that comes blaring fog horns only after the ship has already sunk, nor can it raise the dead from the watery grave.
“Alexander Hamilton! I’m at your service, sir!”
Aaron looks at the hand and doesn’t take it. His hands are safely in his pocket, but he’d taken off his gloves, and he is not particularly in the mood to feel the single most consequential juncture of a stranger’s life.
Alexander is still grinning at him, and the moment is stretching on, and he refuses to put his hand down, and Aaron has about half a second before this staring contest verges beyond the mere impolite and into the territory of heavy, awkward weight and scattered excuses—and before he can think better of it, Aaron takes Alexander’s hand.
- Part 1 of it feels more like a memory
Bookmarked by Leotto (ElliotWindsor)
18 Nov 2019
It takes a village to raise a child.
Bookmarked by ElliotWindsor
07 Jan 2018