I could see she was weary, a shadow of her past. The light  that had once shone from her eyes, now dimmed. Words failed her. She had emptied out a million little broken pieces. It was sad. She had been hurt so much, she accepted it.

Her voice, a mere whisper, spoke. “When will we understand? To hurt one is to hurt all. This is the fault in our stars. It is the simplest of truths; we are all connected.”

 I loved her more in that moment: beaten down, raw, and still standing.  She was the strongest woman I knew.


Anna G. Watson

~ educator, aspiring writer, simple design and style

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