Wilona slowly lifted her hands to her face. With just a single touch, she touched a drop of water. Noticing that she was crying, she rubbed her eyes trying to stop the tears. The more she rubbed, the more it hurt, and her silence was broken. Sobs escaped from the gaps of her mouth filling the otherwise quiet room.
The teacher, worried, fretted around her. He was unsure of what to say or do. He grabbed a tissue and handed it to her.
"What's wrong? Was it something I said? Or do you need anything? Should we step outside for a moment?"
Wilona sniffed, "No no, it's fine." Thanking him, she started to dab her eyes. "It's just, what you said, I- thank you."
Wilona couldn't find the right words to express what she felt. It was warm and nice and fuzzy. A kind of feeling you can't describe but love dearly. The kind of feeling that comes after a storm. The kind of resolution that lives in the depths of conclusion. All she knew was that she had to thank him.
