He was tall, unusually so, and had blonde, straight hair that fell in a curtain across his face. When she first saw him, she nearly fell off of the step-ladder she was perched on top of. When she first saw him, she thought that Bobby had come back for her, after all this time. For a fleeting moment she held onto the hope, and then she remembered the photo. Frank drew closer. He smiled up at her, and Laura could see that it wasn’t Bobby. But the resemblance was strong enough to trigger a massive response.

He asked her a question. Laura saw his mouth moving, but couldn’t hear the words he was saying. A cold rush of adrenaline had rocketed through her veins, and she fought desperately against a panic attack. Fought, and lost. Her nostrils flared, the blood pounded in her ears, and her mouth dropped open as she fought for breath.

Frank did something very unexpected, then. He stood on tiptoes, reached up and took the bag of rice from her hands, and dropped it on the floor. It split, rice spurting out everywhere, but he ignored it. Instead, he joined her on the stepladder, so that she stood higher than him, but they were still close enough to touch. He reached out and placed a hand carefully on her shoulder. She reared back, almost toppling from the ladder, and he removed his hand, then tried again. This time, she let him touch her.

‘If you can,’ he said, ‘Try to breathe out more than you breathe in. It’ll help. I can show you, if you’d like?’

She couldn't reply. She just stared at him, her eyes wide. Who was this person? What was he talking about? Could it be possible...did he understand, somehow, what was happening to her?

He didn’t wait for confirmation. Instead, he took a great, deep breath, and blew it out gently through his cheeks, a long exhale, longer than the inhale. He repeated the movement, and then did it a third time, and Laura realised distantly that he was counting in his head. He breathed out for double the amount of time he breathed in. He was counting it, in his head, just for her, so that she could learn.

In, one, two, three.

Out, one, two, three, four, five, and six.

In, one, two, three.

It was almost like dancing, except the only music was her distress.

Gradually, her own chest began to rise and fall in sync with his. They kept eye-contact throughout the entire exchange. His was steady, and kind. Hers was frightened, yet compelled.

She read somewhere once, in one of those magazines friends used to buy her, in that brief period when she’d had friends, that it took only a few minutes of steady eye-contact to fall in love.

Steady eye-contact, and steady breathing, and one bag of spilled rice.

They stayed like that for a long time, and all thoughts of Bobby, and X, vanished from her mind in that small, blissful window where Frank took control, and cared for her.