Glass Breaks

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Up and out early, and the dogs did their usual trek across the front yard.

I stepped on a piece of glass.

It was early, I was a little worn.

“Why the hell is there glass in the driveway?”

I looked up...

...at Sam’s bedroom window.

“BAH!”

I texted my beautiful wife.

“How’d the imbecile break his window?”

“Not sure. He told me about it. It’s not a story of sheer brilliance.”

So, who fixes glass?

“We may have to take it in,” came the message back.

“What do we take in? The broken glass?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “They’ll glue it back together.”

“Really?”

“No! Not really! You dopey bastard!”

I had to find out why I was picking glass out of my bushes, but I also realized that I broke plenty of windows at the mansion on the hill in North Collins.

“It was really dumb,” he said.

“Try me.”

“I was playing a game, had my controller in my hand, lost, kind of forgot that glass breaks if you hit it with your hand.”

“You forgot glass breaks?”

“Kinda’.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we can glue it back together.”

He looked at me.

I swear...

...he was still wondering if that could work.

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