There is a room filled with cobwebs which gather in the corners. A bare lightbulb dangles from a white string, glistening, illuminating the four grey walls around you.

In the center of the room is a crate, like those you may see at shipyards and such.

Written in red ink, akin to blood, upon the wooden surface of this crate, are the words, 'FRAGILE: Handle With Care'.

You stand over the crate. Your fingers pry the lid off. It falls with a clatter to the stone floor.

Within the crate is a glass heart, broken into a hundred thousand pieces. There is blood on the glass as though the shards were used as weapons.

You pick up the least sharp of the pieces, which, oddly, has the least amount of blood on it, and examine it closer.

In its reflection is a face - a girl's face, repeated many times in the depths of the shard. Often, she is crying.

You feel so terribly sorry for the long lost owner of the glass heart. She had labeled the crate quite plainly for all to see, but it seemed that no one had taken heed to her warning.

You set the piece back in the crate, securing the lid, sealing away her heart's remains.

There is an inscription in the bottom left corner of the lid that you had not noticed before. You wipe the dust away from the wood, squinting at the tiny, singular, black letter.

N

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A short story...

updated Aug 30 '11 by VictoriaGlass