The Glass Girl and Her Maker
Let’s go away for a while.
I do not want to move. I fear that if I move even just a bit, everything would fall to pieces.
Honey, you are falling to pieces.
I’m not.
Your glass insides are already in splintered fragments. What could have reduced you to such small pieces?
(She stares at me.)
Come now, my dear… Let’s put your glazed heart back together.
And if I don’t want it fixed?
(My turn to stare.)
What’s the point in fixing it?
(Sigh.)
Let’s go now. But leave my heart be. It now prefers to be broken. There is comfort in the smithereens.
