Fine lines.

We draw them for comfort, these fine lines between
pleading and anger, friends and lovers, holding hands and holding back.

Apprehension, the fear that comes before
understanding, is the antidote to comfort, which is nothing, really, but the
safety of what we know. And yet we know so little: and how small, therefore, is
the blanket we curl up under, and how cold, therefore, are our
toes.