You let me know that you could see into my soul. “I know what you are hiding,” you whispered, and the relief was palpable. In a place where we holler greetings to each other over our shoulders, rarely glancing into each other’s faces, shielding our eyes with shades, more from other people than the sun. Trying not to be seen. If we are seen, then so is our sadness, and then stories may tumble out. What then? Embarrassment and awkward platitudes from the one we have confided in? A certainty that we will be fodder for the rumour mill. Entertainment even. You are my friend. You asked the question, and you waited for the answer, not deterred by my smile, my colourful attire, my made-up face. You held my hand, and squeezed it. You weren’t going anywhere. You sat with me, and shared my burden. This is kindness, and I felt safe within its embrace.