And what was I crying about, pray tell? Family tragedy? A friend's pain? The injustice in the world?
No. I read a book.
More correctly, I RE-read a book. I do not remember crying so much over Lois McMaster Bujold's Curse of Chalion the first time I read it, but now I have read The Paladin of Sould and that makes quite a difference.
The last three pages were so hearbreakingly beautiful I cried... well, I cried like my heart was broken, actually. Those last pages are not sad, they are painfully hopeful. Why is hope so painful sometimes?
And, now my head hurts. There is the possiblity that my subconscious took this opportunity to vent some of the stress and grief I feel over my work situation in the only way my conscious mind would let me, but those last three pages are truely just very moving.