Half of a Whole
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He asked me if I was a whole.
I asked him if you could be a half.
He said nothing and turned away.
I said everything and continued to look forward.
The answer he looked for. The answer I had. He clung on desperately to life while I was ready to slowly let go.
Sometimes I would ask myself if one could be a half. How could it be? Surely a person is a whole and not a half. Can one be a half? That question dawned to me the day I met that man.
The man who was not a whole but in fact, only a half.
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