She walked down the stairwell, each step cutting the soles of her feet
further. Her blood, tiny slivers of red broken glass, tinkled down the
stairwell as she continued to walk, feet pressed against the red dust of
her past descents. When she reached the floor, she rubbed her feet in the
sand for a while until her feet healed, and then went into the kitchen,
the light through the window reflecting through her in a kaleidoscope
of colors across the mirrored walls. Where the mirrors were cracked,
the light seeped out of the house and faded; but still, the room was
bright, and she smiled, the curve of her lip cutting her cheeks.


Collecting the few fragments of blood that fell from her cheek,
she arranged them on her arm, jabbing them in until she had formed
a miniature triangle. Then she watched as new, smaller fragments slid
from the places she had stabbed, red slivers and dust forming what looked
like a bracelet around her wrist. She opened the refridgerator and pulled
out a glass of water; she pressed the broken edge to her lips and drank
the combination of clear glassy liquid and red dust swirling. When she
swallowed, it was like nails on a chalkboard; it pleased her.

She tossed the glass into the sink, where it shattered; she turned on
the hot tap and watched as molten glass dripped slowly down, absorbing
the drinking vessel and sliding with it down into the drain. She put her
left pinky finger into the stream, just enough to watch her body change
consistency, before taking it out, marvelling at the difference in the
shape. It slowly cooled back into place, and she bent it, the creaking
sound echoing off of the glass walls of the house.

 The phone rang, its ringing the sound of glass rods against hollow
 glass bells, each cracked to sound a different pitch as the rod twirled
 round and round hitting each. As she walked slowly to the phone, the
 rod shattered, and the phone fell silent except for a slight whirring
 noise. She picked up the phone, shattering the earpiece against the
 table so that she could stab it into her ear and leave it in place. She
 asked "Hello?" as she proceeded to busy herself cleaning the counter,
 using a slab of glass to sand down the counter and slight shards of
 her last meal.


Her  motions stopped suddenly as she listened to the phone stabbed
into her ear, the gentle vibrations of a tube inside conveying a voice
to her. She dropped the slab of glass in her hand, and it cracked on
the counter, a spiderweb of inconsistencies appearing centered on a
point near the left edge of the glass. The counter remained fine; a few
shards of dirt sprinkled into the air and then fell down. She pressed
her hands into the counter, taking a deep breath, air flowing through
her and cooling her insides.

She mumbled into the telephone, and the voice continued, its pitch rising
slightly, light gliding through the telephone wire into her ear.