I came to the office quite early today. Not long after I arrived, Ghada appeared at the door. “May I come in?” she asked from the threshold in the quietest of voices. I pointed a chair to her and grinned at her without a word. She sat down, looked at me, and started crying. “Sorry,” she whispered. Tears kept rolling down her cheeks. Neither of us said anything for a while. “Listen,” I ventured at last, “we need to talk in peace, but I cannot do that until tomorrow afternoon.” She nodded. I told her where to meet and when. “All right,” she said and tried to wipe her tears from her face, but to no avail. Tears just poured and poured out of her eyes. Then she got up, nodded at me, and walked out. All she wanted to do this morning was to show me how strong were her feelings. Many hours later, her grief is suffocating still.