She hated having to sit here. Just sitting and waiting, knowing that any minute he would come in and they would begin. His calmness might have been reassuring, but usually just served to underscore her own anxiety.
He would speak gently and pointedly. She would try to disappear, to mentally be somewhere else, but then he would tell her to look at him and she would be hurled back into the moment to face her shame. She knew her actions had hurt him, and blushed more deeply as he detailed exactly how she had let him down.
It would last for ages. Long after her tears had begun to flow freely, he would stop and tell her to rise. Then their positions would be reversed, and the chair wouod serve a new purpose- one that would start her crying yet again from a new kind of pain.
Acknowledging Imperfection 
Ah, but the second kind of pain will consume the first then dissipate leaving her renewed. Let alone, the first kind of pain can linger, become a sore spot sensitive to the slightest touch and renew itself at the most inopportune times. The second kind of pain is intense but fades quickly leaving nothing more than a wistful memory
There’s a certain hierarchy of types of pain- which ones can consume which, and how long they linger. Although sometimes it’s worth attempting to consume the pain with chocolate. There are very few things that chocolate doesn’t make better 😉
Chocolate is a balm for symptoms, leaving the underlying muted but remaining. If pain is provided to clear the accounts of a deeper pain weighing upon the girl, then the provision of chocolate, piece by piece, while holding her in a cuddle, would not be remiss.
Well, as long as there’s chocolate involved eventually- particularly if it comes with hugs 🙂 It would certainly be worth the pain.