"Look at me. I am a wreck," she said, weeping. Her eyeliner was smudging, her mascara running down her cheeks. The stream of tears washed away their blush, yet her face was red due to overflowing emotion. As her cosmetic mask was fading, she exposed her vulnerability in a way that only he could observe.
"The way I see it, you have been through a storm, but you're not exceedingly messed up. For that, it is quite natural to assume that, instead, you went on a rather smooth sailing," he replied, admiring her for being unbelievably candid.
"But people judge me nevertheless," she added, although she was now no longer looking as sombre.
He shrugged. "Oh, they do little else."
"They need to find something more interesting to do," she responded solemnly. "Would you, though?"
"I'll leave it to you, who does it better than anyone else. After all, we are our own worst critic."
"That's better than what I wanted to hear." She smiled, at last.
With her in his arms, suddenly the world seems to be a little kinder, because now he has a place to call home.