I could trace a teardrop until it killed itself. Finding the origin from which that tear came. What joy or pain was so great that it forced a little life from that person’s eye and caused it to fall down. Dying as it dried your pain across the pavement. A thoughtless act to satisfy your selfish pleasure. I could trace the impress that drop made as it spread its depression across a moment. And in that moment all that mattered was that teardrop. And that is all that matters.