It was somewhere on 3rd Ave when it started. Cool, silent tears out of nowhere. No rhyme, no reason, just my throat going raw and wet eyelashes.
My dad, without words, reached for my hand, rough, brown fingers circling mine. And for once, I didn't move away, I didn't try to pretend. I just sat and let the tears slide down.
Sometimes, there's too much and yet not enough.
Sometimes...my heart leaks.
I hate when that happens. Im glad your dad was there for you as a little backup. love ya.
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