“Sit down.”

Abby says, demanding and firm even though her expression and body language is full of worry. She gently sets you down on her sofa. She’s comforting you during a panic attack, and her hands are firmly around yours, squeezing them in an attempt to calm you down. She places her hand over your chest, feeling your heartbeat.

“Talk to me, darling. Tell me what you feel.” She looks at you with every ounce of worry her body is willing to give.