In time, this too will pass.

All glass will shatter, eventually. The process that transforms it from a pile of sand into a translucent, sparkling amorphous solid also leaves it brittle and prone to breakage. So I shouldn’t cry, maybe… but this piece was special. It was a gift. And I will miss it. I left it out to take it to work tomorrow… now it’s just a pile of shattered pieces, and I can’t think about it too much or my heart feels like it will break too.

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