Fishing the car keys out of her purse she doesn’t even look up from the shoes. The ground is blurry, liquid glass windows obstructing her view of the silvery sodden footwear. Fumbling with the keys, she unlocks the driver side door and collapses into the seat. Shoving the key into the ignition, she kicks the car to life, the engine sputtering. Music fills the car in an instant, those mournful lullabies of jilted lovers.
That was all it took, a few harmonious notes.
The sob catches in her throat. Followed by the Thousand Tears. One by one they spill over her lashes, dark mascara-stained rivulets streaming down her face, pooling at her chin and falling onto her lap. Tiny waterfalls.
She collapses her forehead into shaking hands, fingers tugging at her bangs, nails ripping the flesh of her scalp. She doesn’t even bother to wipe her cheeks. The salty rivers continue their silent journey, trickling down her forearms and soaking her sweater sleeves. Each river leaving behind unpredictable lines of grey on her porcelain skin. These tears hold meaning. Each one has a history, an exhausted acquiescence of failure. Her tears are cleansing, carrying away the blackness that shrouds her vision. Dirty symbols of human brokenness. Fear, anger, rejection, apathy, unworthiness, heartbreak, resentment, loneliness.
Each emotion of this sinful condition, concealed in it's own watery capsule, muddied by her vanity. Filthy with conceit.
"Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts." -Charles Dickens