He said, “It’s like this teacup.”

I didn’t bother to point out it was, in fact, a coffee cup. That used to have hot chocolate in it.

“Eventually, it’s going to have so many cracks, it’s unusable.”

I rotated it back round, looking for that last drop. “Yeah, but I’m the one who smashed it.”

“Maybe it was already broken,” he shrugged and twisted the silver top. His totem of the day. It spun until it smacked into his gloves.

“It shattered before. It’ll shatter again.”


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