What’s the quietest thing that ever made you cry?

I was doing a lip-sync at 3am in a dimly lit room, just me and my dog, and the song was this old, dusty ballad I’d never played in years. The way the vinyl crackled when the first note hit—it wasn’t dramatic, not loud or emotional—but suddenly I was crying like someone had whispered a secret into my ribs. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the weight of time, or how dogs always seem to notice when your shoulders drop. What’s the smallest thing that’s ever undone you?