Terry Black stood beneath the fireworks, his face illuminated with a golden hue from the bursts above.

At that moment, I was reminded of the boy who had taken me running through the city, holding fireworks in his hands; he intertwined with the Terry Black before me, blurring the lines between past and present.

Terry bore several deep scars on his wrists, and his neck bore its marks of suffering.

He hesitated, opening his mouth several times before finally uttering, “I’m sorry, I…”

I interrupted him, gazing off into the distance. “Terry Black, some mistakes cannot be forgiven. You can’t demand those you’ve hurt to forgive you.”

If sins could...