Chapter 15Love, to be real, must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self.
—Saint Teresa of Calcutta
1:48 p.m. GMT+1, May 9, 2022
MoxWorld EU Headquarters, Luxembourg
“I’m a nice guy. Really, I am.”
He stands there shaking, quivering, and certainly not boldly so, with his hands over his eyes as he tries to politely back out of the room. But he trips on something and falls, and something bangs his head. Something not so soft.
Thinking that the woman clobbered him with something ferociously hard, he puts his hands around his head, hoping she will stop hitting him.
“Get up,” she yells as she softly kicks him with her foot.
And like an armadillo, he holds his hands to his head even tighter, rigid and cold.
She kicks him again in a different spot. No good. She’ll have to coax him out
