GLASS

Aimee Taub

That morning everything she touched was glass turned fragile and clear splintering underneath the slightest weight. As she started to dress, her garments turned obviously transparent to her downstairs neighbors who were able to see through their glass ceiling, her glass floor. She ran to cover herself but the floor crashed down, slicing the nosy neighbors into brown blood and red entrails. She fell through floor by floor, breaking glass all the way down to the concrete foundation, which after a moment's hesitation, gave way, sending her through the firmament and cracking the world in half. When she fell out of the other side of the split planet, she floated about space, turning sun and stars into glass until there was nothing left to shatter.

 

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