Once, upon eavesdropping, my heart broke. Curiosity doesn't always kill. Sometimes, it just hurts a little. All I heard were three words. There were more than those three words, though, carrying over the darkness between their building and mine. I can't remember the other words, her parents' words, though they were louder and shriller, and more.
My three words, the ones that made me stand at my balcony and weep, were softer, and they came from a child. They broke my heart and I cried my tears at last, with her and for her.
"Mummy, don't cry."
I cried for her future, not just for her present. And maybe I cried for my past.