You stand at the counter with your heavy jar labelled ‘Pity’ wedged tightly in your armpit.
The irony of it all, to hold on to such a thing, the pit you dig resonates in the circles around your eyes.
You had hoped to find some at the counter but as you sift through the broken bottles, the empty thoughts, there’s none to find.
You lie there on the floor, watching your jar rolling away
you thought you heard a voice say: Sorry Miss, We’re fresh out of tears.
Maybe you’d like to try our replacement product? Its called be honest with yourself. We will not be stocking pity anymore.
Sorry Miss, We’re fresh out of tears.
Another WriterB Original.