The bottles of tears line the shelves, rows upon rows.
Filled to nearly overflowing. Collected over millennia, they stand as reminders
of the human response to emotion.
Happy. Sad. Angry. As the tears flow, more bottles are
filled and come down the line. The system organizes them with speed and
efficiency. This is a warehouse, industrial, stern. No mood lighting. No gentle
music.
But every once in a while, the sun will filter through
the one window high up on the eastern wall and the light will catch the angle
just right. And for a moment, there will be rainbows.
True.
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