Paige slid the already-soaked tissue across her cheek, attempting to dab away the slick tears still staining her skin. She’d just finished sobbing when another round threatened to send her into the fetal position again as tears stung her eyes.
A quiet knock sounded at the door to the small storage room she’d locked herself in over an hour ago. “Paige?” a little voice called out. Devoid of its normal snarky-ness, she barely recognized Dewey’s call.
“Go away,” she huffed out, her voice strained from the tears.
“Come on, Paige, you can’t stay in that closet for the rest of your life.”
She gave up on the tissue, tossing it into a trash can and using her sleeve to dab at her cheeks. “It’s a storage room, not a closet.”
“You say tomato, I say…well, you get it.”
“Just go away,” she said as fresh tears flowed.
“You can’t still be crying.”
Her features contorted as hot tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her jawline. “I am.” She hiccupped after forcing out those two words.
“How? I mean…honest question because I feel like it should be physically impossible. An average human’s tear reserves are only–“
“Shut up, Dewey!” she shouted, clamping her mouth closed as the anger burning inside her put a stop to the flowing tears for a moment.
“Sorry, Paige. But I’m not leaving. We’re partners. We get through stuff together.”
“Not this.”
“Just open the door. Even if you just want to sit there and cry, at least I’ll be with you. You’ll know you’re not alone.”
