His eyes welled with tears that refused to fall. Men don’t cry. Yet, there they were, tears.
Real, big, and wet splashy drops.
There was something about his light hair and emerging pain that reminded me of someone else. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and whisper, “It’s going to be ok,” knowing that the words would be a lie.
And it was wrong to lie, except when…
I paused to consider the times for which this rule was meant to be broken and was only able to summon instances that were superficial, meant to save face and limit discomfort, short-term fixes to things that required permanent solutions, like a cheap band-aid to hold together a gaping wound.
So, I told him the truth and watched his tears fall.
