Waterwork

I cried. I put my head on his shoulder and I wept and I wept and I wept. Not too silently either. He woke up, stroked my hair and said, “Let it out. Just let it out, e.b.” Without asking why. And I was so taken aback with it that I had to stop for a few seconds, before a fresh wave rushed along and the floodgate once again went tumbling down the stream.

Because I was so used to hearing “Don’t cry. There’s nothing to be so sad about. Now you’re being silly.” I was so used to my worries being brushed aside, mocked at, considered trivial. I was so used to steeling up inside, and only when I was completely alone did I allow myself to bawl these eyeballs out.

And so he let me sob. I let me sob. Tears washed away all the debris, purged out all the toxins from my mind.

The next morning he smiled and said, “Umm, my shirt’s still damp.”

!!!

~n~

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