Sometimes Hank woke up with tears in his eyes. But he could never understand why.

For most days, Hank got out of bed with a pep in his step, or at the very least a fair amount of determination to get him there.

This made the days of tears very strange for Hank. Although he had enough of them by now to know that he couldn’t shake tears that were already there.

But how do you release them when  you have no idea what you’re crying for? or is it over?

If for no specific reason, then for what?

For the weight of the days that accumulate with each 9-5er we live through, at times whistling and others half smiling, half dead?

For the fact that we have no idea what we’re doing here and we can’t be sure that life isn’t just one big joke?

“But that’s more scary than sad,” thought Hank.

So he got out of the bed, slammed some doors and pans, and made himself a plate of banana pancakes.



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