Nothing we shared had a breaking point.
Our friendship was a vase, not even worthy of being glass. Every time we’d hit a wall, the vase would never break but always scratch. The vase wasn’t beautiful, with enough marks to sketch a map, but it was reusable. We never said we were proud of it, but every morning we’d pick it up and fill it with flowers, because it was a vase after all.
Vase | Sharks in the Shower
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