Shards

 

The pattern of an old bowl, one of Bab's purchases. Unimpressive; nothing whatever of note. No reason it would retain a place in memory, float up unbidden from the past. None of her purchases were ever noteworthy, ever of any aesthetic value—a former beauty like her. She had no real taste, always buying only the cheapest sale items. Yet this bowl that will need to be disposed of shortly when the old house is sold emerged from the deepest depths for no reason of its own in the very dead of night, a little torment in fact.