It would always happen after he had been kneeling for a while. The tears would fall silently, as if they themselves were trying desperately to be a secret. They would stream down his face like they were a pencil point slowly studying the contours of his beautifully crafted cheekbones, all the way down to that breathtaking jaw. But she never had to actually see this tragic display of heartache, because she could feel it. His pain was her pain. Her hand involuntarily found his, while his fingers reached up to touch the gold ring hanging from his neck. She knew there was nothing she could do for him that he couldn't do for himself. So, she sat with him a while and then asked him how he felt.
Sometimes the heart of a friend is just enough. "Just hold my hand, I think that would help"
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