I don't need to see the trail to know you're at the end of it. My grandfather's compass may not work, but mine is still true.
I can wait in silence no longer, but I’m afraid I’m already too late. I am trapped between agony and hope—believing I have no right to speak, but knowing more how much I’d regret it if I did not. Tell me I’m not wrong. Tell me that, this ti...
...You are my compass star." And he was hers.
