The Pain Was Indescribable As That Color Was Part 6
Once my father made me a crown. I was five maybe, it was the fanciest crown you have ever seen, I am sure. As it was not cheap plastic or plain paper. It was made of the dust of the broken colorful glass balls. The color I will never forget. It was kind of real-but-so-magic one, smoky shiny pink. It was probably the most precious, special and unforgettable thing made for me. No one had one like this, I looked as a real princess, not a fake kindergarten one.
When he broke my heart, it fell into pieces, the pain was indescribable. As that color was. It was not significant that he had only part of it possessed. Or- it had possessed only part of him. I wept over those pricy pieces not able to put them together again. I knew it is not possible to have my heart back again as it was. Then I decided to grind it. As my father did to broken glass balls. And made my crown once again. I am a princess. And now as I could not get my heart one again, I will wear my crown every day. And seeing it, I will always remember it was my real flesh once.
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