![]() Sneaky weeping has become my dirty little secret. ![]() As laughter ricochets around the gothic architecture, I look down to conceal what’s about to happen: flared nostrils, downturned mouth, wincing eyes. It’s January 2017, and my friends and I are watching standup comedy. I ’m not crazy about birthdays, but crying in a church is a touch more melodramatic than I anticipated for my 31st.
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