He's lying.
He has to be--all the strangers do. He's another nameless face trying to hurt me, that's all, and I finally snap. I'm so sick of it that I'm screaming bumptious abuse at him before either of us knows what's happening.
Except this time, this stranger tells the truth, and it's hard. The proof is right next door, and even though I'm forbidden to see it, I'm well aware of its existence. I'm galvanized into silence, and the ringing quiet addles my brain more than the shouting ever could.
The stranger seems fine enough, like he deals with this
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