Rug

I console myself in different ways when I'm sad. The best crying place is the living room of my parents' house. There's this great old rug in there with unusual patterns and beautiful colors. We used to have a different one. I hated to see the first one go, but the newer one serves the same purpose. When my eyes are full of tears, the meaningless shapes start to look like things. It's distracting in a good way. The images of laughing snakes, volcanoes, Buddhas, and vases full of unusual flowers remind me of the last time I cried in this room. "Everything turned out okay that last time, and it will again," the characters seem to say. And so far, it has been okay again every single time.