When I was walking, my life dropped out of my pocket. It fell and it shattered. Pieces were scattered all over the ground, so I took a long while to find every one. When I’d thought I’d found every last one, I looked again, and again. I went to the store and I bought some glue. As I was gluing, a sharp piece of my life cut my little finger. My finger cried and it cried and my life cried with it, and the glue, once white, turned red.
I continued to glue, and eventually, I glued my life’s pieces into a ball. I looked it all over and then I discovered, I had forgotten a small shard on the table; where could it go? I have used all the spaces, and I like what my life has become. I held my life in one hand and held the shard in the other. I could not take my life apart again, unless I want to start over. So, with the small shard, I closed my hand, and threw it over my shoulder. ‘There, now it’s gone and I don’t have to worry.’ I thought.
I put my new life back in my pocket, and went on walking. I saw a nice man on the street across from mine and smiled. He smiled back and so we crossed paths and we talked and we laughed and we walked together. I started to think about how close we’d become, and how happy I was, and I decided that it was time. Out of my pocket I pulled, my mended red life. He smiled and told me ‘It’s lovely.’
He then pulled out his, which was ragged and worn. I lied, I said ‘I like it’ although I did not. We tried to hug, but we just didn't fit. Our lives kept getting in the way. He got angry and snatched them both up and threw them down on the ground. Once again, my life was shattered.
I picked every piece up and I cried big, wet tears, which dropped on the shards of my life. The wet pieces clung to the dirt, as they lay, and became smudged and filthy. It was hard to tell which were mine, but the ones I thought were his, I picked out and threw them far away. I pulled out my glue, and started again. When I was finished putting all the ***** pieces in place and I looked at the relics of my life; Sad, broken, mismatched and in peril.
I took my poor life, and I put it in a small box; it was dark, and it was tight on my life. People could not hurt it. People could not see it. I could not see it.
When I was out walking with my life, hidden away in it's box, I saw a nice girl. She smiled at me, and I smiled back and paused. ‘No, this won’t happen again.’ But the girl approached me, and she told me she liked me. I couldn't help but reciprocate; she was beautiful and sweet and I loved her. She pulled out her life and I turned away. ‘You don’t like it’ she said. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to sob. ‘No, I really do, please don’t cry’ I told her. ‘Mine has been broken so many times, I hid it away’. I pulled out the box and tried to unfasten it, but it would not open. I pulled and I pried but the box wouldn't budge. I became angry and I threw the box at the ground. The girl walked towards it and picked up the box full of my shattered life. She gently lifted the latch and looked inside at the shards. She smiled. She put her life inside with mine, and put the latch back down, and she dropped it. ‘What are you doing?!’ I asked, confused and disturbed.
‘I'm mixing our lives, and when we got home, we’ll mend our life together.’