𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘢'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵.

"Here, hold my hand." 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯-𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 (𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.

"It might take a while for you to find the words," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. "But I’m here, waiting patiently, just for you."