A short story
So there was this one guy who kept a beautiful glass. Years it had been that he held it with care but some more time passed and his grip gradually got loose. The glass, therefore, slipped from his hands. The fragile object cried, of course, as it saw itself fall and break into pieces. The guy left then, leaving the glass almost irreparable. One day, little Johnny happened to pass by the broken glass and still saw how beautiful it is, despite its awful damage. He wanted to come for its rescue. But poor little Johnny’s hands were like anyone else’s. Made of flesh and not of steel. So poor little Johnny had to accept the fact that unless the glass decides to put itself back on its feet, it will never be his. It will always be the previous guy’s possession.
