She heard a song floating in from the café nearby. It was a Beatles song she used to love, "I'll follow the sun", and with her head on her knees, she let herself cry. They were tranquil tears, even philosophical ones, but deeply sad as they slid down from the corner of her eyes into her hair and ears.
She cried for the leavers and the left. For the people like herself, forsaking what few precious gifts thwy would ever get.