half empty, now broken

She gripped the edge of the sink as the amber liquid circled the drain, the etched jar shattered there. Her knuckles white with strain, she marveled at the stream of blood.

It was just as well. She should slow down anyway. Her body, her temper, not to mention breaking it in rage, her beloved jar, the one that held her memories, all of it added to the long list of things she hated about herself.

Outside, children chased, playing monsters, or maybe zombies. The sun shone through budding branches and the first crocuses were up. But it was not enough.

I'm playing 100 Word Song with Lance at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. The song is called "Satisfied," by Ashley Monroe.