“It’s okay to be sad,” I said, lightly resting my hand on her fragile shoulder.
She looked at me with puzzled eyes. I repeated my phrase. Her eyes seemed even more perplexed.
“You can cry, you know.” Maybe a reformulation, a concretization would help her understand what I meant. I knew sorrow had a funny way of clouding one’s comprehension.
Minutes passed by and I was debating on whether she had actually understood anything at all. Maybe her hearing was faulty. Just as I was about to repeat my words she suddenly took a deep breath. The movement of her body startled me, as she had stood coldly statuesque the past hour. With dampened tempo and faint crescendo, she finally replied.
“I’m not sure I know how.”