We are sitting here in this little box

This box made up of gum wrappers and cigarette smoke, of music and memories.

We are sitting here with the rain beating down on all sides, drowning out our thoughts and obscuring our vision. We are sheltered within, but not really.

There is an even bigger storm raging inside this little box of ours. And for once, there are tears instead of laughter. There is pain instead of joy.

The pain is not mine, it wasn't at first. This is her battle. This is her defining moment.

She is breaking into pieces that I am desperately trying to hold together, but I am not glue, and she is not porcelain.

I can taste her tears in the constricted air. I can hear the screams that don't escape her lips. And my hand is on her shoulder, gentle so she doesn't crack, though she may already be broken.

This night will not be easy. This night will last a thousand years. But I will sit here with her. I will sit in this box that currently holds so much darkness. I will wait, and I will hold her. I will be here, for as long as it takes. I am determined.

I have hope.

I have hope for days where laughter will once again bubble from her lips, and off key singing will fill the empty spaces.

One day, the rain will end.

But for now, I will be her shelter.