I lie belly down on the dirty rug of my office. The light that peaks through the swaying lace curtains moves and glimmers.

Melancholy—sadness’ gentler sibling—embraces me. I sway with the curtains as though we shared the same slow rhythmic heartbeat. I feel at one with every soulful movement in the universe and yet so alone.

These tears…I turn them into whispers and send them out of the window and into the breeze. I pause in anticipation. Nothing. They go unheard amid the clatter and clang of the street.

But melancholy hears—it always listens to my tears—and holds me tighter.

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