Broken Narratives: Jars.

They see each other at least once; sometimes twice.

“You have to protect yourself.” �"

However, this time, she felt a lot heavier than the other times; crushing, even.

“You built those walls for a reason. Don’t let them fall down now.” �"

Every single time, after their meeting, she’d go to her secret place �" a storage of sorts. It is a tiny room, with a tiny lone window in the center wall. The moon and sun both up in the sky, the horizon a rich colour of purple, red, pink and orange. Two large, wooden cabinets stood on each side of the window.

She opened a wooden cabinet on the left side. A hundred tiny glass jars lined up the ten shelves. She carefully examined the ones in front and picked up the one that looks a little rounder than the rest. She gave an affirmative nod and closed the cabinet.

A table stood in the center of the two cabinets, just below the lone window. She placed the tiny glass jar on the table. She then held up her left palm, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly, a sphere of colour materialized in her palm. This time, it was a deep shade of azure. She opened the little glass jar and placed the azure sphere in it.

She felt a lot lighter.

She then opened the wooden cabinet on the right side. Hundreds of little glass jars with spheres of varying colors lined up the cabinet, like the very universe is dancing in each jar. She placed the new jar in the bottom shelf and closed the cabinet.

“Good. You did good.”          

Her eyes snapped open. Her hands on the keyboard, her back firmly against the office chair. Only five minutes had passed. People are starting to arrive. It’s a new day.