The Tear Collector

It was a lazy, peaceful evening. Nothing in particular had been going on until somebody hammered at my door. I approached it rather unsettled but I opened it right away. A young girl appeared in front of me. It was difficult to tell her age with a high degree of accuracy. Although her face was childlike, something about her unmistakably gave away the fact that she hadn’t been a kid for a long time; somehow it couldn’t have been clearer.

At first, we were just staring at each other. The look in her eyes expressed how obvious the reason for our meeting was. I, on the other hand, had no clue, and I’m quite certain this was what my own eyes conveyed. But she didn’t notice, did she? She kept staring at me as though she was waiting for me to do what I was apparently supposed to do.