One glance. He knows. We retreat to private quarters, dimming the lights without a sound. He takes me into his arms. I collapse into his firm body. Then, I bawl my eyes out.
This isn’t a romantic interlude. I’m actually talking about crying. Crying’s no fun, but it’s necessary. I believe I can reap blessings from it.
Crying may not change my circumstances; it’s an avenue to changing my heart.