Award-winning caramel ice cream studded with bits of butter cookie that melt in your mouth like ice in hot chamomile tea is the perfect thing to lift your spirits after one of those days when the tears keep dripping from between your lashes but you don't know why or what color of clear they are. (Gold for the heroic tears between skintight suits posing around bulging muscles? Black for the despair-ridden tears of people who've had their souls scooped out, like that ice cream, and devoured by the void? Pink for the pathetic tears of a ditz who can't take the strains that come with applying exactly three coats of eyeliner every morning?) The tears from the sweet cold dessert, dramatic though it may sound, were perfectly colorless, joyful and true.
The suspended test scores dangling just a few finger-stretches out of reach, the high notes of a sea shanty I'm supposed to lead with pounding gusto, and the empty space that dances around me as I move through my space devoid of communication all gushed out of me and I was filled with a profound contentment. Suddenly, it was pointless to drown in anxiety when falling in was only a choice.
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