Those broken girls they band together. They see the cracks on each other and become so close that an ampersand connects them and will until the end of time because those broken girls understand that cracks don’t always heal, and they are so unwilling to add anymore cracks. Those broken girls find each other and in doing so they think they find themselves, and it has been so long since they have known themselves that they latch onto the cracks in each other with fingernails so long they act like talons, hooking underneath the cracks and pulling up pieces. They are so afraid of being cracked even further, and they think that by holding onto each other that they are healing, but all they are doing is turning those hairline cracks into fractures that break off in the wind. Each crack becomes a gaping hole, and with each hole added those poor broken girls start to turn on each other, thinking that the one person they trusted have turned against them too, and the chilling wind blows into those open wounds turning them cold and bitter, and not just to each other, but to themselves too. The pieces that have fallen shatter and the familiar dance of friends has turned pained as their bare feet crack and bleed. They were supposed to save each other, the ampersand between their names that was once a blessing has turned into a curse because they see no way to undo it without shattering one another, so they continue their dance. Blood gathers beneath them, and they dance through the pain and tears, tearing each other apart until there is only one left. Cracked meets cracked, and they both shattered like glass.