Reflecting On Time

Too Much to Lose, Too Young to Lose It

Dante hated this wheelchair. Hated that at 17 his life was over. Hated watching those mindless idiots out there in the street, but he sat here at the window and watched them every day, all day, anyway. He had almost gotten to the point of accepting things in the past month or so. For the first year after the accident, however, 

Dante lived in a cauldron of hatred and rage at that ignorant drunk driver.  

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