She wore her mood like the flag of her disposition for the day. She felt transparent, like her insides and thoughts were on display and she was some sort of organic curio that moved about. Men pressed their faces to the glass and she shuttered at their touch, closed her eyes to their eyes, wide and staring at her vulnerabilities.
It seemed appropriate that upon breaking up, everything was out in the open. She’d forgotten how much they had stopped actually seeing each other before it ended in a retching of emotion. Bits of themselves they had hidden spilled from the boxes like unfolding memories. She felt a phantom limb from when she was younger and more independent. The years had changed her. She had changed for him. And he had changed for her. And here she stood in the ruins and chaos of it, a glass curio, waiting to be unpacked.