The Story of a Broken Heart
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He didn't knock. She didn't stop writing. "Go away."
Silence. She looked up. He studied her.
She repeated herself.
Still mute, he sauntered to where she sat at her desk. His gaze finally left hers, finding a pink crystal heart sparkling beside the monitor.
"Don't touch it." He picked it up.
"Where's Sam?"
"He's your friend."
He studied her, fingering the crystal. "Your boyfriend." He turned to leave.
"My heart!"
He paused at the doorway and set the figure on the nearby bookshelf. He opened the door; the crystal rocked. With the final-sounding click of closure, it fell. And broke.
