i thoguht of bryson He asked, "Are you sad?"And she was quiet, hesitant, unlike herself - until she shakily shook her head "yes". And he said nothing, but ran his hands up her back and turned her to face him, pressing his nose against hers looking softly, hardly breathing, understanding, not knowing, not even loving, just comprehension, comprehension of what she needed: The hands that brushed her spine and the hair out of her face the pressure of his body and the fact that just then, he was her friend. And she felt more than his skin and he, more than hers, and he held her like he held the world.