CHAPTER 118
THREE YEARS LATER………
The worst type of crying isn't the kind everyone could see; the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived.
Now, something so sad has hold of her that the breath leaves and she can't even cry. So it's true when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.
Grief is a most peculiar thing: we are so helpless in the face of it. It's like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less, and one day we wonder what has become of it.
It doesn't ge
