I was sitting close to a couch which wasn’t mine nor yours. Maybe it was the bed that we would sleep on that night, two girls with our pajama party.
I sat on the edge of something. and I started crying, and crying.
And you reached over and touched my face. and smiled, your famous smile that pairs so well with your now-blonde famous pixie haircut. and you told me quietly, “You are so beautiful when you cry. I wish I were beautiful when I cry.”
And I cried harder, because no one had ever told me I was beautiful when I cry. The only thing I had ever been told when I cry, was to stop crying.