I'm not sure what brought it on. But uncontrollable tears are welling up. Gravity is bringing them down. Down along an invisible, undetermined path. Don't you dare wipe them away! Don't deny their existence. It is now 1997. Winnipeg. Summer. And I am about to be cut open. And it is the Flood of the Century. Everyone holds their breath. And clings to their homes. And to each other. Nature takes what it wants. And I am sewed back up. Aren't you glad you left that tear flowing? There's stinging salt when it hits the corner of your mouth. Like a wall of sandbags. When you gasp for air, you know you're still alive. And you were spared. And the city was saved. And your clumped eyelashes will dry. And a smile will shine. Even uncontrollable tears have a purpose. And you can't always prepare. So don't. And trust the floodway sometimes.