As I usher in my 33rd year of life, I am facing a new set of blank pages. Ryan’s manuscript is complete. We sent it off in the middle of the night, with tiredness clinging to our eyelids and exhaustion blurring the pages. We let it go to the darkness; to the ethers of the internet. Its fate now rests with our editor, and the same faith that trusts springtime buds will bloom and snow will blanket the earth in winter. I feel like a weight has been lifted, but I also feel an emptiness. This project has colored my time for the better part of a year. It has...
Whispers on the Wind
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