Opening himself up for anything was breeding ground for trouble. For hurt, and in the past month he'd been hurt more than he had in ages. He looked down at her long, slender finger. "It leaves an open door for anything." It was the whole point in closing himself off from the world. The outside world was cruel. It was ugly.
He took hold of the fruit, plucking it from her hand and turning it in his own. It was a perfect sphere. Not a bruise or blemish on it's pigmented skin. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface. "I can see her. I just want her to see me again," he whispered.