On the other side of the wall, a girl forces a smile, faking happiness.

The bruises on her hurting heart are purely invisible. But that doesn’t mean they’re not there.

She wishes someone would understand; she longs for someone to console her loneliness.

A tear escapes the pools of green hopelessness we call “eyesâ€?.

She needs a tissue.

A tissue will console her, it will let her know that someone does understand.

But does she know that on the other side of the wall a girl is offering to be her friend, to comfort her? She will understand her . . .

. . . and she just so happens to be holding a tissue.