the twelve dates of schmidtzmas

When a stranger is crying that moaning-hurting-cry, and the language they speak isn't the same as the one you do, you feel helpless. Deciding whether it's okay to turn around and see if they need the comfort that you won't be able to provide, or whether you should continue staring out the window to give them as much privacy as a hospital lobby can offer is difficult. So now, with so much I should be doing, I'm feigning busy and becoming increasingly cowardly because when I've cried in the hospital, I can't remember for sure, but I think I just wanted to be left alone.