I went to the store to buy tomatoes. I came home with the tomatoes. And I wept.
Not enough.
I went to the store to buy tomatoes. I came home with the tomatoes. And I wept because of my dead children.
Too much.
I went to the store to buy tomatoes. I came home with the tomatoes. And I wept because the homeless guy on the corner wasn’t there today.
A lie, but emotively closer.
I went to the store to buy tomatoes. I came home with the tomatoes to a shockingly quiet house. When I opened to refrigerator to put the tomatoes away I saw an unopened juice box. I began to weep because I knew no one would ever drink it.
All the facts but none of the flavor.
I went to the store to buy tomatoes. I came home with the tomatoes. And I wept. If I had the courage to tell you why, you might weep too.
‘Pity’ is not ‘Sad’.
Today I wept. Fuck the tomatoes.
‘Anger’ is not ‘Sad’ either.
When I buy tomatoes, I’m reminded of how much my children hated them just like I did when I was a child. It makes me weep to think they’ll never figure out they were wrong, like I have.