You hold the cup. It is chipped. The glaze is worn smooth by ten thousand lips. You are a potter. Your hands are thick with clay. The hall is bright. Candles burn. Smoke curls. The air is thick with roasting meat. It smells of fat and fear. You sit at the high table. You are not important. You are just a servant. The lord laughs. He drinks. The cup is in his hand. You watch it. It is your work. You made it years ago. You made it for your son. He is dead. The cup is his. Now the lord holds it. The lord is cruel. He hits the servants. He breaks things. He breaks people. He holds the cup up to the light. The chip catches the flame. He likes it. He likes the flaw. He says it is honest. You nod. You smile. It is a bad smile. Your face hurts. You want to take the cup. You do not reach. You are afraid. You are small. The lord is big. He is a monster. He is a god. You are a worm. The hall is loud. Voices rise. Music plays. A fiddle screams. It sounds like a dying animal. You look at your hands. They are clean. Too clean. You miss the mud. You miss the wheel. You miss the dust. You miss the silence of the workshop. Here, there is only noise. You are trapped. The cup is the trap. The chip is the hook. It hooks your heart. You cannot let go. You want to. You need to. But you cannot. The lord speaks to you. He calls you by your name. It is the first time in years. Your name is William. It sounds foreign in your mouth. He asks for more wine. You pour. Your hand shakes. Wine spills on the table. The lord frowns. He does not yell. He just looks. The look is worse. It cuts. It slices. You feel it on your skin. You apologize. Your voice is thin. He waves you away. You retreat. You go to the corner. You stand by the wall. The wall is cold. It bites your back. You close your eyes. You think of your son. His name is Thomas. He was like you. He had the hands. He had the love. He died of the fever. The fever took him in a week. You held him. You held him until the cold took the warmth. You broke the cup that night. You glued it back. The chip remained. You could not fix it. You could not fix him. The cup is a mirror. It shows your failure. It shows your grief. It shows your shame. The lord returns to the table. He picks up the cup again. He drinks. He wipes his mouth. He looks at you. His eyes are dark. They are deep. They hold a secret. You do not know the secret. You want to know. You are a fool. You are a simple man. You are a potter. You make things. You do not know the world. The world is dark. The world is cruel. The world is the lord. The lord stands. He walks to you. The crowd parts. They watch. They whisper. They laugh. He stops before you. He is close. You can smell his breath. It is sour. It is old. He holds the cup out to you. "Take it," he says. "It is yours." You freeze. Your heart stops. Then it beats again. Hard. Fast. You reach out. Your hand trembles. You take the cup. It is warm. It is heavy. It is yours. You hold it. You feel the chip. It bites your thumb. A drop of blood falls. It hits the floor. It is red. It is bright. The lord laughs. It is a harsh sound. It is a cruel sound. He walks away. He leaves you standing. You hold the cup. You are alone. The noise fades. The music stops. The candles flicker. You are still. You look at the cup. The blood is on the glaze. It dries. It turns black. It becomes part of the cup. It becomes part of you. You realize something. The lord did not give it to you out of kindness. He gave it to you to break you. He wanted to see your pain. He wanted to see your shame. He won. He beat you. He used your love. He used your grief. He used your son. He is a monster. You are defeated. You are broken. You lower your head. You walk away. You go to the workshop. It is dark. It is quiet. The wheel is still. The clay is dry. You sit on the bench. You put the cup on the floor. You stare at it. The chip glints. The blood is black. You pick it up again. You hold it to your chest. You weep. The tears are hot. They burn. You are small. You are weak. You are a fool. You let him win. You let him use you. You let him hurt you. You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate the cup. You hate the chip. You hate the blood. You hate the past. You hate the present. You hate the future. You want to break it. You want to smash it. You want to destroy it. You want to destroy him. You want to destroy yourself. You lift the cup. You raise it high. Your arm shakes. Your muscles burn. You are strong. You are angry. You are full of fire. You swing. You crash it down. The cup shatters. Shards fly. They cut your hand. They cut your face. Blood sprays. It is red. It is bright. It is warm. The sound is sharp. It is loud. It is final. The cup is gone. The chip is gone. The blood is gone. The past is gone. You fall to your knees. You are on the floor. You are in the dark. You are in the pain. You are in the silence. You breathe. It is hard. It is slow. You are alive. You are free. The lord is dead. No, the lord is not dead. He is still there. He is still watching. He is still laughing. You hear it. It is in your head. It is in your soul. It is in the shards. It is in the blood. You cannot escape. You are trapped. You are in the dark. You are in the pain. You are in the silence. You are alone. You are small. You are weak. You are a fool. You are a potter. You are a man. You are a son. You are a father. You are a survivor. You are a victim. You are a ghost. You are a shadow. You are a whisper. You are a memory. You are a dream. You are a lie. You are a truth. You are a cup. You are a chip. You are a blood. You are a tear. You are a breath. You are a life. You are a death. You are a beginning. You are an end. You are a circle. You are a line. You are a point. You are a nothing. You are an everything. You are a you. You are a me. You are a us. You are a them. You are a world. You are a universe. You are a god. You are a devil. You are a man. You are a woman. You are a child. You are an old man. You are a young man. You are a stranger. You are a friend. You are a enemy. You are a lover. You are a hater. You are a believer. You are a doubter. You are a hope. You are a fear. You are a joy. You are a sorrow. You are a love. You are a hate. You are a life. You are a death. You are a now. You are a then. You are a here. You are a there. You are a inside. You are a outside. You are a up. You are a down. You are a left. You are a right. You are a forward. You are a backward. You are a in. You are a out. You are a on. You are a off. You are a yes. You are a no. You are a maybe. You are a never. You are a always. You are a sometimes. You are a never mind. You are a whatever. You are a nothing. You are a everything. You are a you.