"There," I said, looking up.
Another tear fell onto the notebook page, smudging the ink. She quickly wrote underneath:
She flinched. Her head snapped up, and her wide, dark eyes met mine. They were pools of pure panic. She looked like a deer that had just realized the hunter was not only there, but had been watching for hours. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Just a small, breathy gasp.
But then I saw it. A single, perfect tear escape her eye and trace a slow path down her cheek.
I didn't reach for her shoe. That would be too much. Too forward. Instead, I reached into my school bag and pulled out a small, battered tin. I opened it, revealing a tiny block of beeswax I used for the slide of my trombone.
Komi Shouko was crying in earnest now. Silent, beautiful, horrible tears. Her shoulders shook.
She stared at me, frozen.