I am friends with a giving tree, and he is surrounded by girls asking for twigs and leaves. He cries at the pain when some of his bark snaps off, but only on the inside; he dares not complain to those he loves. He turns to me for help. He hurts, but what can he do? He loves those who hurt him, and those who hurt him love him back, even if it's selfish love. I sit under his shade, though spotty it may be for lack of leaves, to help think of a solution of any sort, but I can't think of any consolation save one: I give him a branch of my own.