I fell to my knees, sobbing with all my heart. I put the scratched picture to one side and ran my hands over the bumps and peaks of the glass. They felt like tiny little, blood-stained mountains. I was the cloud, hanging on for dear life; my tears, the salty rain. I imagined being down there, in hell.
I wept like the willow until I had nothing left inside of me, collapsed on the fragments of glass-looking memories and fell into the world of dreams.
I dreamt of my sister. Her understanding eyes, her tight hugs, and her vanilla-scented candles.