(April showers bring May flowers.)
April drowns her sorrows in orange juice, staring into her glass and imagining her troubles very slowly running out of air. She imagines being submerged herself, and wonders if she would attempt to struggle in the slightest, or simply sink down to the bottom. Where would you get that much orange juice? Imagine seeing nothing but orange, every sorrow drowned and gone forever (but not forgotten).
April finds herself bursting into tears (april showers?) when she sees him in the doorway, looking hesitant and afraid, flowers in his hand (may flowers?), and the glass slips in her hands, orange juice forming a puddle on the floor.