Sob Story

She allowed the tears to begin rolling down her cheeks as soon as she saw him getting out of his car, but the sobbing didn’t begin until she had buried her face in his chest, could feel the solid weight of his arms around her. She was oblivious to the other restaurant patrons getting out of their cars and walking through the parking lot, only pausing briefly to wonder about the couple standing in the drizzling rain; a little girl held her mother’s hand and starred, a solemn look on her shamelessly inquisitive eyes.

She was only aware of the comfort she felt in his embrace, as if her feet were on solid ground for the first time that day. Her shoulders shook with spasms caused by her inability to catch her breath and she could feel her tears become cold as they touched the shoulder of his polyester coat. The waterproofing made them roll off, but not before they had hit her cheek again and mingled with the fresh, hot tears that were continuing to fall.

She knew he was concerned, knew he was choking back tears of his own, caused by her misery. He would do anything to make it better. He would give up his dreams if it would only make her happy. But she didn’t need that; she only needed to fall against him and to have him hold her up. She needed a few moments to let go of the facade, to stop being perfect and having it all together. Just a minute to stop striving. To be her imperfect, broken, often incapable self. And to know that he probably loved her more because of it.

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