Part XXI: A Use for Thunder
‘What’s your worst secret?’
The question hits me like a punch.
‘Tell me what you don’t want anyone to know about yourself. And I’ll tell you the same about myself.’
Now it’s me who falls silent. Not because I don’t know what to say. The answer, the secret that would mean he’d have to tell me his, pops into my head as soon as he says it. But it’s too awful to say out loud.
I wait for a crash of thunder.
‘I like being treated like I’m the answer to their prayers. But I hate that I like it.’