the colleague who cried in the office bathroom

I heard her before I saw her. I was washing my hands and there it was, from the last stall: the very specific sound of someone trying not to cry at work. The held breath, the careful silence, then the slight sound of failure. I dried my hands. I stood there for a moment. I don't know her well. She sits two rows away. She is efficient and quiet and once gave me a good suggestion in a meeting that I used and I don't think I thanked her properly. I said, "Hey. Do you need anything?" Not loud. A pause. Then: "I'm fine, thanks." I put my hand briefly on the stall door — I don't know why, just a presence — and said, "Okay. I'll be at my desk if not." She came out ten minutes later looking composed. She nodded at me. I nodded back. We have never spoken about it. I don't think we will. But I think about the nod sometimes.