I always wanted to be her hero, her knight errant off on the road to right all wrongs, vanquishing any detractor, asserting my love month after month, year after year, to win her. I felt my efforts knew no end, no plan too distant, no event to extreme, just a perfect knight exemplar fighting her every foe to win her love. In all, a life well lived only to find at its end, I was no knight. To her I had been, always been, damaged goods. I was to her not a hero, but a grief.
Such a blow one cannot bear.
Richard Kimball
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