She looks to me with the expression of a boundless and hopeful puppy; as if I can somehow heal the invisible wound, as if I can give her that thing which she needs.
But I don’t know what it is.
It is not the book I have in my hand, or the words that roll from my tongue, or the smile we share.
These things, they are a start, but it is not enough, not enough by half.
She looks at me, still hopeful, but the message in her eyes I cannot read, and, because of this, I cannot bridge the gaping chasm.
I don’t know what will.
But I do know that I am determined to find out what it is that she needs.
And when I do, she shall have it.
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