[He nods just once, looking down silently at her grateful smile, the sadness in it. He lifts his arm to drape around her shoulders, has no words to say, no more gestures but this one: pulling her small frame against his chest, dropping his face into her choppy, soft hair. She smells like cheap shampoo and smoke. Like Ali.
It's good to know she's got his back. That even having a few moments of sharing time didn't make things worse, not for her, not for him. That maybe, just maybe, she can understand a little bit. But he doesn't know how to say that. How to say he's grateful too, not yet.]
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It's good to know she's got his back. That even having a few moments of sharing time didn't make things worse, not for her, not for him. That maybe, just maybe, she can understand a little bit. But he doesn't know how to say that. How to say he's grateful too, not yet.]