We were relaxed and cozy on the couch when my body trembled from the thought of all the pain people I love have and can potentially experience. I'm sorry that she had to feel me shake. I'm sorry that I can't alleviate the sorrow and the troubles from them. I'm sorry that there was a girl at home I only saw briefly on a day she needed caring people around her, that I had to be honest and reveal some discomforting feelings to the girl on the couch, that she must deal with this situation in one way or another, that I can only serve a strictly limited role in helping her, that we may never know what could have become of it, that in a few short weeks these girls will be taken from my presence.

I'm really sorry that she had to feel me shake. I've been a steady rock for the past week, but a wave of enfrightenment briefly snatched my composure. I must be strong, for myself and the people I love, particularly those two girls.