by katyhuff

I am hard and brittle as a squat drinking glass, tossed idly from hand to hand by a visiting mathematician. Clumsy with indifference, his young hands absently fumbled and it shattered against my refrigerator door. Only hours later, I shatter at the slightest mishandling by my own detached and blundering mathematician. I dare not contemplate the broom we’ll need if we intend to gather my sharp edges without drawing any blood.