She sat at the edge of the bed and glanced nervously at the man before her— wounded man, no less, hunched in pain. She wondered if she should walk over and kiss his shoulders, if she had the power to heal his pain at all.
The air was dense with melancholic silence.
She did not walk over in the end. Because he did. And they held hands as she lifted herself off the bed. She stroked the back of his head gently as they stood there in each other’s arms, hearts melted as one.