The air was thick. Densed with uneasy words. It was love, evaporated from restrained tears and subtle trembles. Love between two friends can be so pure and so simple. Unlike the romantic kinds, it is untainted by preassure, need or jealousy. It is only a state of being. A being of two people appreciating one another's company and existence. It is too bad that gender should impose. I've never understood why it made any difference, but apparently it does. 

 

He handed me a book of poems. One of his favourites. The pages were old and delicate - just like his good soul. It was the most beautiful gesture a friend has ever made.