I held you in the night as you cried. The thing had broken, the tattered remains leaving a damp, guilty spot on our bedsheets. You held it in your hands, examining the tear.

"What do we do now?" you asked "What should we do?"

Our bodies entwined through the gray sleepless night. And in the morning, you put your fingers in my hair, pressed your lips to my forehead.

"Whatever we need to do," you said, "we will do it --"