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  • It is said that you can sense the mind of the potter when you hold a finished piece of pottery.

    At this moment, I pray for that not to be true.

    But there's no escaping it. I've just shattered the mind of someone, somewhere. The porcelain bowl is in a million pieces, the energy of the creator's loving hands released into the air. Thoughts and secrets that swirled through the quarter-inch thick glass body shattered along with everything else. Time was put into that piece. Concentration. Love. Energy.
    What a waste.

    All of this flashed in my head as the bowl with the little cow glued to it suddenly came crashing down with my snack careening down with it. Hitting the floor, it shattered with a sickening crack, the cheerios skidding across the tiles in all directions.

    I was alone at the time. No one to go to. No one that would help. Anyway, I would rather attend to the mess myself than be found out. That would make things worse. Everyone would scream...yes, yes, it was better that nobody knew.
    But I remember just sitting there red-eyed, holding back tears. Where would I start? That was my favorite bowl down there, shattered on the ground. the little cow was at least still in one piece.

    That'll teach me to pour cheerios in the dark.

    But luck was against me. Or, as I found out later, with me. I heard the hiss of the screen door, the thump as shoes were kicked off, and mom appeared in the doorway. She saw me red-eyed, saw the cheerios everywhere, saw the broken bowl, and, pulling a sincere, worried face, asked, "What happened?"

    I told her what happened. In a shaky, uncertain voice. I expected a scolding: I had been a clutz. I had made a mess. There were shards of glass on the ground. And I was doing nothing about it. I deserved a scolding completely. But I should have known mom better then that; she was a fair woman.
    Instead, she smiled, and together we mopped up the cheerios. The bowl? I exagerated about a million pieces. Amazingly enough, it had split into a perfect two halves when it had hit the floor, the little class cow skidding off with it's own surfboard and the third piece.

    Super glue should be enough to make it whole again, and restore the secrets it had once held.
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