“And then he shot her in the
head.”
When he said that, my body
just let go. I remember the exact
traffic light I was at. For a moment
there was a complete vacuum of
sound, and then I cried tears like I
had never cried before. I collapsed
in heaving sobs and moans. I cried
as if every other thing I’d cried for
in my life had been a waste of
crying. I cried so hard that if my
present crying self could go back in
time and see my other crying selves,
it would slap them and say, “That
shit’s not worth crying for.” My cry
was not a cry of sadness. It was not