snapshot: broken

"How did this happen?" she wondered "How did I get here?"

As she looked at the shards of broken glass that surrounded her on the floor where she sat huddled, she wondered if his choice of things to throw was as well thought out as it seemed. He'd given her that vase, after another fight long ago. It was a make-up gift, of course. And to prove how very well he knew her he had gone out and found just the perfect thing - a beautiful vase, very ethnic, very exotic looking, something he knew she'd love.

And there it was, in hundreds of pieces on the floor. "Funny", she thought "It seemed like it was hard to break, I guess the vase was tougher than I am." He'd had to pick it up and throw it again after it failed to shatter in a satisfactory shower of sharp bits the first time it hit the wall. The thought brought inappropriate, almost hysterical laughter to her lips. The sound hurt her throat did it hurt from crying, from screaming at him to leave or from where his fingers had held her against the wall? The pain triggered the memory and her bitter laughter turned quickly to scalding tears as she lay her head back against the wall.

Her breath was shaky as she sighed, thinking over and over again "How did this happen? How did this happen...to me?""