You've trusted me. You've told me about everything. The pain. The sorrow. The doubt and fear. And then you asked me to meet you. In such a short time, I've come to know you so well. At least, I think I do. But you see, I've experienced pain too. I don't know what to do. If I go, it could be the best day of my life. Or it could be the worst. There really is no in-between. What if you're not who you seem? 

I'm not ready to make that decision. The stakes are too high. I can't handle it. So I go shopping instead. I don't even like shopping. The whole time, I think of you. My shoulder begins to ache. My stomach begins to clench. My head pounds. My heart races. As it gets closer and closer to the time I would have met you, it gets worse. 

Finally, I go back home.

I see you the next day. I walk straight toward you and you hold out your hands. I take them in mine and breathe deeply.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I didn't call you. That I didn't meet up with you. That you have pain in your life. I don't know. I'm just sorry."

I forget all my qualms when I see a smile on your face. 

"Hey, don't worry about it. Okay?"

You gently squeeze my arm and I know everything has been forgiven. Next time, it won't have to be.