I’ll break into half someday.
You will not.
I’ll chip..like a small cup. An English tea cup. They’re so elegant.
Nothing will happen to you.
Or I’ll crack..like a sheet of glass that slips from a shelf because no one wanted it in their window pane.
You are not made of glass, darling.
I can hear the soft shatters under every step of mine. Someday I will stop hearing them.
Yet, you do not hear me.
Your steps are so silent, my dear.