Over the next hour, they talked. At first, Debbie was hesitant, unsure of how much to share with this stranger. But Filex had a way of making her feel seen and understood.
He didn't push her to speak but listened intently when she did.
In return, Filex shared bits and pieces of his own life. He was in his mid-twenties, had a passion for music, and often
traveled alone, drawn to places where he felt he could make a difference, even if only for a single person.
He spoke of his ability casually, as though it were as ordinary as being able to play the guitar or cook a meal. "It's not always easy," he admitted. "Feeling what others feel can be overwhelming. But I've learned to use it as a way to help people find their way."
Debbie found herself opening up about Pasco, her struggles with self-worth, and the doubts that plagued her every day.
Filex listened without judgment, his eyes reflecting an empathy so profound it felt almost otherworldly.
"You're holding onto someone who couldn't meet you where you were," he said finally. "It's not your fault. But maybe it's time to let go-not for him, but for yourself."
His words hit her like a tidal wave. Deep down, she knew he was right.