My socks were wet. Maybe because I was in the rain. Maybe because of my tears which I let trickle from my eyes to my chin and which then proceeded to drop and seep into the cotton of my socks. It’s very uncomfortable to have wet socks. It’s not even that bad when your shirt is wet, or your scarf, or your hat, but socks are just repulsive when they’re moist. I wiggled my toes because the drops of water from the sky and from my leaking eyes were making them cold and I figured that if I kept wiggling them they wouldn’t fall off. No one came to sit next to me. I kept watching the door, waiting for someone to peek out the small window, give me a sympathetic look, and come join me and comfort the tears away from my eyes. But it stayed shut. It had never looked so absolutely shut before. Maybe I had to comfort myself. I attempted to pat myself on the back but my arm wasn’t long enough to reach so I gave up and focused on wiggling my toes. I stopped staring at the door because it was so closed and it made me feel closed so I looked at the sky. It was gray but I could see the drops falling quickly from the clouds. It seemed like they were all aimed at me. Many landed on my face and mixed with my tears until it seemed like the rain was coming out of my eyes. I turned back toward the door. It was still shut. I wondered why I was here if nobody would even open the door to see me. I wondered what the point of me was if no one even cared enough to stop the rain that was seeping from my eyes down to my socks. I wiggled my toes again. I wondered if I mattered.