Jackson,” he mused. “Not a name either one of you was born to.”

Lizzie answered, “No. But beyond a certain point, names become accessories. We swap them out as needed, for the sake of peace. You understand?”

“I understand. Though I disagree. Names aren’t hats to change a look, or a suit to be swapped at a whim. Words mean things.”

“Then we must agree to disagree.

Fate has dug me a hole, and rather than crawling out, I’m digging it deeper. What Fate began with a post-hole digger, I have expanded with a backhoe. I think I expect that when I reach bottom, I’ll find some sort of enlightenment – that which would give my life meaning, like a buried treasure. It may be buried treasure, but I think it’s buried deep within my soul. It may even be shouting to be let out.

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