The room was trembling as she walked in. Tears rolled down the chartreuse wallpaper, landing on the floor with a great splash. She jumped across the large puddles, not wanting to ruin her penny loafers. The ceiling fan hung crookedly from the ceiling, making a sound similar to sobbing as it spun slowly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the room.
“Everyone left,” it replied.
“But I don’t know you.”
She grabbed a dirty towel off the floor and wiped the wet walls in small, circular motions. “Shh, it’s OK,” she said, pressing her cheek against the wall. “I’ll never leave you.”
“I don’t believe you, but what else is there?” it said.
The trembling ceased and the fan stopped spinning. The tears continued to run, but eventually they might stop.