I have no more tears to cry. I cried my last few out. Months and months of misery have brought about this drought. I still feel all the pain but now no tears can I expel. I cry with pretend tears and sulk for dry has run my well. I never waste my tears on joy, I save them for distress. My tears are far too precious to expend on happiness. I drank a jug of water to replenish my reserve. I sit and wait for tears to come just like I do deserve. If I have to wait much more, whatever will I do? I had one jug of water but perhaps I do need two. Months and months of misery have caused me this surprise. There may be nothing left to do but wait and shut my eyes.