The little girl looked up at the cabinet. She really wanted a glass of water. And not in the plastic cups well within her reach. She wanted a big girl cup. The pretty clear and heavy cup. Cold and smooth. Perfect. She just wanted to get up there and grab it. She wanted a cool long drink. She was just a little girl. She didn't know how hard it would be to reach it.

So she got a stool and stood on it tall, then painstakingly rolled onto the counter. She shakily tried to stand, then had to squat back down to allow the cabinet door to open. With the door open, she stood again, holding the shelves to balance herself. She reached on tip toes for the glass. Then again. The third time, she gripped a glass. A beautiful, crystal glass. She grasped it with both hands and smiled at her accomplishment. She looked over the edge of the counter to see the way back down.

Then it slipped.


Her sweaty hands tried to reposition the thick round glass into a firmer grasp.


But it kept slipping.


Slipping.

Then.


It fell.


Down, down, down, down. And she watched it. Perfectly aware of what was going to happen and also knowing she had no control. Over any of it.


It fell down, down.

And she sat in perfect silence,


she watched everything shatter.