Once upon a time in the land of the glass hearts, there lived a young girl. This girl, as all the girls did, carried with her a heart.
While she was young it was kept safely on the nightstand by her bed and every night she would look at it and smile. It was so perfect; pure, clear, everything a beautiful heart was suppose to be.
Eventually the time came that her parents gave her the heart to carry with her always.
“It will break if you aren’t gentle with it,” her father reminded her.
And she was. She kept it cradled softly in her hand as she wandered through life.
When she was still a young girl, no longer a small child yet not yet a woman, it happened. She was sitting there, her heart in her hand, and he walked by.
It wasn’t on purpose!
It just happened that neither of them were paying attention and when he passed, it fell, swiftly, with a slight “whoosh!” and hit the pavement with a bump. The girl was horrified. The boy never noticed. He had only passed her, after all, and had someplace to be.
The girl fell to her knees next to the heart. It was still in one piece but cracks were beginning to show. Picking it up carefully, she held it gently in both hands. She looked around and realized that no one saw. Not a single person had any idea that her heart was broken.