She was alone, kneeling on her favorite space in the hallway. Singing to herself softly, like she always did, as she bent over to pick up another piece. She would have them all, sooner or later, and life would go on. The shards never came quite together the same way, and it never seemed as rich a red as it once was, but beggars can’t be choosers, like the quiet smile across her lips.
It was funny, and at the same time less and less so with every piece, careful not to get cut on the sharp edges. Her fingers slipped, but she continued; after all, it was nothing. Cuts and scrapes were nothing at all. She shooed the thought away, for dreams were venomous, and thoughts would poison her smile, her song.
Her smile. From beginning to end, the only thing she’d kept. Her cheeks tugged gently at the corners of her mouth, a rich-red crescent as finespun as silk. Even when his silhouette had faded permanently into the translucent window, even when the door had violently slammed shut. Not even when the shattering wasn’t half as loud as it was supposed to be, when the neighbors didn’t come rushing in to rescue her. Her throat choked, her breath shook; it had taken her a while to pick up that first piece, on her knees. It had taken another four to re-sweeten her throat. But she was singing again, and that was all she needed.
She would put her heart back together. Every last piece.
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Submission Name: Chipped Wine Glass
Sarah