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She was in my arms, crying. More like sobbing. You would never think that crying was as scary as something you might see in a movie, but something about this unsettled me. Maybe it was fact that my friend was crying for some reason I didn't know, or perhaps because I could feel her shaking. I never thought it was true-like in the books and stuff-that when people cried they actually shook. I could feel the unsteadiness in her, the bumpy shakes her shoulders gave on me. Her tears were beginning to soak my shoulder, the tears leaving wet trails down my shirt. I gulped, feeling as if I might cry, to be unable to do anything as she sobbed against me. My arms tentatively patted her back and I closed my eyes tightly, feeling her shiver and shake. She was always so strong, so bright. Yet, here she was, crying like anyone else. My arms tightened around her, the urge to make it stop strong. It felt as if she may break any second, like the foundations of her body were coming apart. She was suddenly so fragile, her body glass. My arms got tighter and tighter, constricting her against me. My mind screamed for this to stop, and I squeezed her tight, as if my arms might hold back the feeble foundations about to break.