“Part of me wanted to move around the desk and comfort her. It wouldn’t help. Grief, regret, and anger overcame her. A hug or a pat from me would not help. The best I could do was sit here and let her feel those emotions. The wounds bled at the moment. Soon, scabs would form, bleeding when she picked at them. When it was all said and done, the scars would remain. Reminders of the pain that no longer hurt.”