The Blue Vase

 He remembered everything. All he had to do was close his eyes and see it,feel it. And all that led to it. And long after that.

 A single moment. That's all it took. A violent jerk of the hand,the silence in between,and the shrieking sound of the glass shattering agaist the cold,marble floor. Silence again. His eyes fixed on the shattered pieces of blue glass scattered around,pieces that had once made up his favourite vase. His favourite blue vase. He used to love the way it reflected the light,when you drew the curtains,glittering  the sunny days,dull the cloudy days. A silent companion in his growing up,mirroring the weather and his mood alike. He kneeled to pick up the precious pieces,wanting to glue them together again,make everything all right again. But his hands were shaking and his tears blurred his vision.

 "What are you doing?You're going to cut yourself." And, indeed,drops of blood were already staining the glass. He watched his mother as she was cleaning the mess,her features drawn,her hair a mess. His father had banged the door a minute earlier,never to see him again.

 His hands were shaking now,as well. He was trying to collect the pieces of the broken glass off the floor. Odd,wasn't,it? In the decades that followedc the "vase"day as he liked to call it,he had never broken a thing. Not even close. And ,here he was,in his own kitchen,picking up the pieces of a glass. A glass his wife threw at him,right before she marched out the door. Was he never to see her again?

                                                                                                                  Written by Ms Paragon