I reach out, but grasp only air. I can see you through the fog, close but just out of reach. You look like you could use a hug. But either you don’t want one, or I’m too shy to close the distance.

Whatever it is you are thinking about must cause you a lot of pain, because your eyes are cast down, your brow is furrowed, and there are dried tears on your cheeks. Even if I’ve never experienced whatever it is that causes you such heartache, I feel I could at least lend an ear, or a supporting shoulder.

But I stay just out of reach. Available, but unsure if you would accept my offer. What would be appropriate? A million ideas flit through my head, but most are discarded as you sigh, the fog swirling out from your breath.

I hug myself from the chill and watch you walk a few steps further away with no where to go. I know you won’t leave right now, but if in the future you do, would I have said the things I need you to hear?

I decide to speak, but you don’t hear me. My words are swallowed in the sudden rain.