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It's what to do with your hands. You see them lying there and your first instinct is to take them into your arms where nothing can hurt them. Because it's safe there, right? They're always safe in your arms.

Because you always hold them when they're happy. Hugs. Birth. Cuddling. Rough housing. Happy.

Because when they're sad, you make it better. Nightmares. Break ups. Skinned knees. Feelings hurt. Better.

That's your job. That's why you even have arms. It's that touch which means everything.

And when you see them and you realize what's happened, then you don't know what to do. You don't want to hurt them anymore than they already are. A wrong touch could kill. That blood. Their life. You could do it wrong. So your hands hover, ever so close, but safely away. It's not supposed to be that way. Ever.

They're not happy. You can't make it better. And the touch that helps you both is suddenly taken away.