“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know the secret source of your sorrow.”

He says it plainly enough, but I feel my tongue clamp to the roof of my mouth. I smile, look away, pretend to be thinking.

He gently takes me off the hook with a light response, “Of course, we all have sorrow, stemming supposedly from our separation from the Divine.”

We laugh at this and I rest my head on his chest. At least for tonight I won’t have to risk anything.

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