He tried not to taste his tears: They had grown stale, like the bread-crusts he ate for breakfast everyday. He heard the sounds of burning and low cries coming from the street, but he was too tired to let that bother him - besides, such noise had become mundane by now. He wondered bitterly if he was not better off without a woman - no one to mourn.
Redemption had been promised - but when? Even this one night seemed interminable. "My Lord, You are my strengh on the day of affliction", he murmured, and in doing so, swallowed his tears. They felt hot against his lips, perhaps the way the lips of a woman might have felt, had he lived in a different era.
Sometimes he envied Moses for having been chosen for a mission of redemption: To take forth a people and teach them how to eat manna and leavened bread, to split salty seas.
Jeremiah swallowed his tears. He looked forward to a breakfast of stale bread, and a lunch full of fears.
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