Saturday Story: Crying at Dinner

Photo by Fa Barboza on Unsplash

Crying at Dinner

Sitting across from me at the table, she cried. It’s a helpless feeling watching someone
you don’t know quite well enough to hug as they cry. I handed her a kerchief. “I’m sorry,” I
repeated, and furrowed my brows. She blew her nose. “It’s not your fault, you know,” I said.
Empty comfort, I was sure. She shook her head and wiped her copious tears. This was,
essentially, her problem. “We’ll still be friends?” I added, hopeful. She started up a new, louder
sob. Then she got up and walked away, leaving me with guilty stares and a hefty bill.

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