She was hurting and I couldn't alleviate it. She was broken and I didn't know how to fix it. Her beauty was classic and rich, a timeless loveliness rare to find. I knew the silver of a razor and the white-hot burn it gave offered her respite, and my heart ached for her. She was so practiced at raising her mask, letting nothing slip, such a secretive person that it was hard to find the right words. She understood me in a way that few others did; she was wonderful like that. Her endless compliments and generosity was unbelievable and I was eternally grateful for that. I wished I knew how to make her pain go away.
