If she could reshape the moon, if she could change the celestial art in the sky, it would never be alone, not like her. So when she looked up at it every night when the stars danced with each other and the sun was resting, at least her dear friend the moon would have someone who loved her enough to always stay. Anger reveals her heartache. Something small like a spilled glass of blood-red wine or a stubbed toe on the foot of the bed they once shared brings her back to that afternoon in late February. That evening when they said goodbye for the last time and she watched him walk away, even though he promised he never would. A promise is a sure way to ruin something good, for no one ever keeps them. He promised to stay by her side forever, to always love, cherish, and respect her. But she never realized that his promise had an expiration date. She likes to break glass because it reminds her that, even though she is shattered and her heart aches for him with every breath, at least she is still herself, just like the broken glass dripping in wine is still, indeed, glass.