" Katrina,” he said, his mouth going dry.
“I’m feeling like Winnie. I’m ready to cry.”
He slid down his bars to the mesh of the floor,
feeling even more gloomy than ever before.
 
Katrina went over to offer some cheer,
to say something kind into Mortimer’s ear.
But what could she say? What could she do
for a friend who felt so inconsolably blue?

So gently, she rested her hand on his head.
Because sometimes our words…





























































… are best left unsaid. "

― Robert Paul Weston , Zorgamazoo