It’s Friday, and you know what that means… the weekend is near! And also Friday Fictioneers, of course.
When they ask if she really wants it, she says yes. Her lungs feel sore afterwards, as if they have frosted over. She lays a hand on her chest and feels the silence resonate.
When she gets home, she takes her mother’s crystal glass and throws it against the wall. She stares at the pieces, not blinking until tears roll down her cheeks. But they taste of nothing.
She smashes more until the floor looks built of crystal.
When her mother follows later, slipping between her fingers, she can’t even feel glad that she has no heart to get broken.
Word count: 100
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Until next time!