The almost-cry. Coming close to weeping. Maybe even a little heave of the chest. Anxiety about coming so close, even. A closing off of certain abilities to feel, in any way, good. The coming on of the cry will put you into your place, nail you to where you are and strip away all your defenses, the ones you didn’t know you had. A life review. A stock-taking comes into sharp focus – I really should get down to brass tacks – and you descend on yourself with a ferocity unmatched by the ferocity with which you could ever come down on any other person. Just squeezing words about it out takes a too much effort.