Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • When I think of tears, for some reason I think of the color of pale, green glass...the kind you see in old bottles and jars, weathered and etched, ground down slowly by the environment.

    When I think of tears, I think of simmering right under the surface. This deep, well of cool liquid ready to leak, rage, tempest, quietly run in rivulets.

    When I think of tears I think of the ridiculous, because the reasons vary so wildly it borders on the absurd.

    Tears are good though, even the ones you don't want to let go of.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.