If You’re Always Tired and Joyless, Read This

They found him singing.

The guards had beaten him bloody the night before. His back was a mess of bruises and torn skin. Chains bit into his wrists. The floor was cold stone, soaked from the rain that snuck through the cracks in the ceiling.

And yet—he sang.

Not to escape. Not to pass time. But because something in his soul refused to stay quiet.

Joy. That’…