Author's Note: This, I wrote in honor of a good friend of mine. I hope you like it.

No Use For Tears

“There’s been some… news,” she said. The most terrible words in the language. A foretelling of horror, hate, fear, tragedy, and a whole list of other words with different specific meanings, but the same connotation, the same sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Your friend,” which one, which friend, specifics are needed to prepare the system for a shock, to put up the emotional walls and barriers necessary for the continuance of such a pitiful existence.

“She’s… sick.” Sick, wonderful, nobody comes with that look on their face, tears gleaming behind their eyes, pity obviously radiating from their every motion. Liars, all of you, but that means it must be bad, else she wouldn’t bother lying.

“She’s in the hospital right now.” Dear Lord, the hospital, people don’t go there unless it’s an emergency; but at least, if she’s in the hospital, she’s still alive.

I still wonder who it is.

“She had surgery last night.” For what? “There was an aneurism in her brain. We caught it in time, luckily, but she’ll be unconscious for a while.” Until when? “We don’t know how long exactly. But it looks good.”

Good!? How can it look good? She’s in the hospital, unconscious for nobody knows how long, and they’re saying that it’s good?

“You can’t visit her yet. Don’t want to overload her brain while it’s still repairing, you see.” No, no I don’t, all I see is nothing. Emptiness.

“Who is it?” I ask, finding my voice at last. It sounds so weak, trembling, I can’t believe it belongs to me. And yet I can’t believe I have a voice at all.

She tells me. And I can feel tears building up behind my eyes, begging to be released, but I don’t let them. Not here. Not now. Not with her. I don’t know her, she doesn’t deserve a peek into my grief.

Later, alone, I allow myself to cry. I release the pressure behind my eyes, the pressure I put there to hold back the tears. I turn off the lights, so not even I can witness my moment of weakness. I let go. And nothing comes out.

I sigh, turn the lights on, blink a few times to rid myself once again of emotion. The moment has passed. Let the tears remain where they are, if they so choose. I have no use for them.