"You okay, buddy?" I asked him, not knowing whether this was a moment where he needed the tender embrace of another man — his subordinate — or whether he needed to be left alone to marinate in his awkwardly long moment of self-loathing. I elected not to touch him, much less embrace him. He's a man who is very much afraid of all love that doesn't come in the form of wet slobbery kisses from his aunt Jane or a loveable dog.
"I'll never be okay," he said.
I nodded in agreement. He'll never be okay. Most of us will never be okay. Which is why dogs and their inexplicable happiness are so special to us.
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