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Broken Things



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There used to be a set of eight.  I love using them.  Delicate, pale green stemware that belonged to my Grandmother.  And then there were seven.  I broke one.  Like in slow motion, it slipped out of my hands when I was  trying to hurry.  I know it’s just a “thing,” but it broke my heart.  Made me think of broken things.  Made me so sad.

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