It's a friendship kind of love

March 4, 2011
I am in a room of white, torn and desperate couples of varying ages sit at white, round tables, you know the kind that fold the legs in for easy storage...
I walk up to the first and without thinking I pull a lighter and pack of cigarettes out of the man's pocket. The woman takes out a picture of another man and burns it then kisses her husband. I have taken the problems.
The next couple I take a pill bottle from the woman and the man drops a magazine on the table, his face is suddenly filled with disgust.
I do the same sort of thing with two more couples before I cone upon the last table, it's a boy sitting here, he has blonde hair and his head is bent. He is sitting in his boxers.
I take his shirt off the table and slip it over his head and fix his arms through.
He doesn't respond.
I take his pants and slip them over his legs, he stands and pulls them up all the way and returns to slumping in his brown metal chair. 
I put on his beanie and his rings and a bracelet. Last to go on is the shirt's logo and the blue color to his eyes. 
He blinks and looks up at me and I know who he is. He is close to tears and lifts his arms a bit.
I practically pounce on him, I am about to cry! And he does cry so I stay strong.
"I will always be here, no matter what I am always here to protect you." I don't know why but this promise is what I say, and I know he needs it.
And I notice something else, he smells nice. He has a smell I cannot name but I am overjoyed to notice the lack of cigarette smoke that usually clings to him, because I love him. And I make the promise once more before it all fades.

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