A shiny new glass was brought into a household by a mother who told her two careless kids to be careful. They drank juice in it everyday. First thing after school. They pulled it out, held it carefully in their hands, it’s firm shape fitting snugly inside their palm. Then slowly poured juice into it and watched as it filled. Full to the brim, they simply stood and beheld the sight of the color shining through the glass for a while. Golden when it was apple. Orange when it was orange. They then took a sip, felt the coolness in their mouth. A bit stinging at first and then gradually subsiding.
The juice and the snacks after it were sometimes the highlight of the day. For either one of them or for both.
They were the highlight.
The day the elder one walked in and saw the glass broken, he’d just woken up. So he stood and stared at it for a while. Understood after a few seconds that it was broken. In a very fleeting moment of panic, he tried to recall whether he’d kept in near an edge somewhere the day before.
He hadn’t.
It was the younger brother’s fault. In perverse satisfaction and perverse relief, he left.


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