thirst quenching

It was an ordinary morning, but the moment she opened her eyes drops started rolling down her cheeks.
Maybe it was sadness, maybe not. At first she didn't notice anything, walking down the room and pulling the curtains while silently leaving wet traces on the loom-woven carpet. Then the mirror showed her shiny eyes and wet skin. Nice, but she had to get going now. So she brushed her teeth in tears, took a shower and let the salty and sweet water mix. She drank her morning coffee but never finished the cup, the salty tears kept refilling it. She ate while crying, drove to work with hazy eyes and hid herself behind her computer cleaning her desk constantly. She attended a meeting and excused herself with a sudden allergy. She searched her surroundings for hidden onions and spicy ingredients, but nothing could be found. Strangers in the street started talking to her, trying to figure out what was wrong, padding her on her shoulder and handing over fresh handkerchiefs.

When she arrived home that evening the tears were still streaming down her face. So she sat down, pressed her eyes, locked them so long until the tears had to turn back inside. From that day she never had to quench her thirst anymore.