Going to get my hoodie from the living room, I stepped on something. I looked down, expecting to find a chewed-up bone Liz brought into the room (she does not like eating alone). Instead, something reflected the light from the lamp overhead.
I sat on the couch, leaning closer to see what it was.
Pieces of a broken glass.
There used to be 6 glasses. I liked those the most. However, one by one, they suffered an ill fate. There were three remaining last night. Now there are two.
It used to be a whole glass.
Now only pieces remain.
Pieces with razor sharp edges that cut.
Pieces that get undert your skin if you’re not careful and stay there, irritating the skin and causing pain.
Next time I stop at the store, I need to get a pack of new glasses.