The glass is in your hand.

It is cold.

You hold it tight.

Your fingers are white.

The cup is fragile.

It is old.

It is yours.

You are a maker of glass.

You have made many.

This one is special.

It is blue.

It is thin.

It sings when you tap it.

You do not tap it.

You are afraid.

You are in the hall.

The hall is big.

The floor is black.

The lights are dim.

You are not the king.

You are a servant.

Or so they think.

You are a man.

You are here to sell.

You have a bag.

The bag is heavy.

It holds your work.

You wait.

The doors open.

A woman enters.

She is tall.

She wears red.

She looks at you.

You look away.

She does not see you.

She sees the room.

She sees the power.

She sits.

You stand.

You are invisible.

This is good.

Invisible men are safe.

Invisible men are tools.

You are a tool.

You wait for the command.

The command comes.

A voice.

It is loud.

It is sharp.

"Bring the gifts."

You move.

Your feet do not make a sound.

You walk to the table.

The table is far.

The table is high.

You place the bag.

You open the bag.

You take out the glass.

You place it on the table.

You step back.

The woman looks.

She touches it.

Her hand is soft.

Her hand is cold.

She picks it up.

She turns it.

Light catches it.

The light is blue.

She smiles.

It is a small smile.

It is a mean smile.

She likes it.

You like that she likes it.

You have made it for her.

You have worked for months.

Your eyes are tired.

Your back is sore.

You have given it all.

You have given your heart.

You have given your wife.

You think of her.

She is not here.

She is at home.

She waits.

She does not know.

She does not know you are here.

She does not know you sold the glass.

She does not know you sold your soul.

She thinks you are sick.

She thinks you are weak.

She is wrong.

You are strong.

You are here.

The woman drinks from the glass.

She drinks wine.

The wine is dark.

The glass is bright.

She looks at you again.

You freeze.

You should not look.

You look.

She sees you.

Her eyes are hard.

She asks for you.

A guard comes.

He is big.

He is angry.

He grabs your arm.

His grip is tight.

He pulls you forward.

You stumble.

Your face is near the table.

The woman is above you.

She looks down.

She speaks.

Her voice is quiet.

"Who are you?"

You do not answer.

You are afraid.

You are angry.

You are alone.

You are a maker.

You are a man.

You are nothing.

She asks again.

"Who are you?"

You speak.

Your voice is small.

"I am Thomas."

She frowns.

She does not know the name.

She does not care.

She puts the glass down.

She puts it hard.

The glass cracks.

A small line.

It runs from the rim.

It runs to the base.

It is not broken.

It is broken.

You see the crack.

Your heart stops.

Your heart breaks.

You did not do it.

She did.

She dropped it.

Or she hit it.

It is her fault.

But you made it.

It is your fault.

You are the maker.

You are responsible.

You look at the crack.

The crack is a line.

The line is white.

The line is ugly.

The beauty is gone.

The song is gone.

The light is gone.

You are gone.

The guard pulls you up.

He pushes you out.

You fall on the floor.

The floor is cold.

The floor is hard.

You do not move.

You do not cry.

You do not scream.

You lie there.

You are a piece of glass.

You are cracked.

You are useless.

You are discarded.

The doors close.

The sound is loud.

The sound is final.

You are in the dark.

The dark is thick.

The dark is heavy.

You are alone.

You are Thomas.

You are a maker.

You are a fool.

You loved her.

You loved her too much.

You gave her your best.

She gave you a crack.

You gave her your life.

She gave you the wall.

You are a servant.

You are a tool.

You are broken.

You stand up.

Your legs are weak.

You walk.

You walk to the door.

The door is locked.

You knock.

No one answers.

You kick it.

It does not move.

You are trapped.

You are in the hall.

The hall is empty.

The hall is silent.

You look at your hands.

Your hands are clean.

Your hands are empty.

You made the glass.

You held the glass.

You broke the glass.

Or she did.

It does not matter.

The glass is broken.

You are broken.

The system is broken.

The court is broken.

Justice is a lie.

The king is a lie.

The woman is a lie.

You are a lie.

You are nothing.

You are air.

You are smoke.

You fade.

You leave.

You walk out.

You walk into the night.

The night is cold.

The night is wet.

You walk home.

You walk to your wife.

You do not tell her.

You do not speak.

You sit at the table.

She looks at you.

She asks what is wrong.

You look at her.

You see her face.

You see her eyes.

You see the love.

You see the pain.

You see the truth.

You are not the maker.

You are the glass.

She is the hand.

She will drop you.

She will break you.

You will not stop it.

You will not fight it.

You will accept it.

You will sit.

You will wait.

You will be still.

You are safe.

You are broken.

You are home.

The glass is in your mind.

The glass is in your heart.

The glass is in your soul.

It is blue.

It is thin.

It is cracked.

It is beautiful.

It is dead.

You close your eyes.

You are gone.