The Walled CityBook - 2014 | First edition.
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So much smoke wisps up from the Brotherhood’s pipes and cigarettes that soon enough I can’t even see Nuo clearly. I only know she’s there because of her music. Despite her bandaged finger, the notes stab through the air, steady and strong.
And despite the hurt in my legs, I walk straight, keep a smile pasted to my face.
We’re stronger than they think.
It never made sense to my young mind, how a hurt from so long ago could keep a man from walking right. Stay with him the rest of his life. But now that I'm older, now that I've fought my own wars and fired my own guns, I understand. There's a hurt in my heart, like the flee of an old war wound. An ache I can't really explain. An ache that won't let me forget.
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