Truth HurtsWilson sat for a long time with his face in his hands. The night had been long, full of the sounds of violence. These nightly sojourns into the pits of hell were becoming more frequent, and more intense. He had felt sure that his government's recent laws would crack down on the dissenters, make protests less likely. Events like last night were putting paid to such optimism.
And now Lester Steinmann and his revelations.
Often, when young, he stood in front of the mirror and wondered why he bore none of his father's features. He could clearly see his mother there, especially around the eyes. Of his father, he saw no shared sign. He never thought too deeply about it until a passing remark from a friend, 'You definitely have your mother's looks. Nothing of your father, thank goodn
