[There are two kinds of crying, they know. There's the loud kind, the grieving kind - the one that has you clamping your arms around your middle and hugging yourself tight enough for it to hurt, the kind that knots up in your chest and makes it impossible to lie still because it arches your back and has you howling to make it all stop and drain away. The kind that leaves you shivering, panting, stammering, soaked in your tears and your snot.]
[There's the quiet kind. The kind that hitches your throat and chokes your words and you can just stomach it, lower your head and drop your shoulders and sit somewhere no one will see. And it'll be okay.]
[Max gradually begins to drift from the former to the latter. And that means it's...it's not getting better, really, but it's getting to be something she can bear. And that's something.]
no subject
[There's the quiet kind. The kind that hitches your throat and chokes your words and you can just stomach it, lower your head and drop your shoulders and sit somewhere no one will see. And it'll be okay.]
[Max gradually begins to drift from the former to the latter. And that means it's...it's not getting better, really, but it's getting to be something she can bear. And that's something.]
[That's something.]
I don't blame you.