She hung her head quietly, breathing tiny breaths in an
attempt to stay suffocation that would surely come if she breathed too deeply.
It’s difficult to accept defeat on any occasion, but the sensation of having
your chest crushed is often too difficult to bear when you’ve ruined someone
else’s life.
Even
worse is the lack of punishment she’ll receive - a slap on the wrist, an
agitated tone or two from her supervisor, a slip of paper that will get her no
closer to repentance. She must supply her own hell. When left to grieve over
your own misfortune, it isn’t the pain of loss or any sort of guilt that is the
stuff of suffering - that is the inability to judge when you’ve had enough.
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