The case I present is a simple one:
A broken heart.

Its pieces scattered. Some north. Some south. West and East.
Lost, seemingly forever.
How, then, does one break their heart?
Does it fracture or implode, or more violently, explode?
Can it be pierced or bruised?
Those pieces, some given, some stolen.
Some unintentionally lost while others were deliberately hidden.

They say time mends a broken heart but those waiting on father time know better.
The broken heart begins to feel again.. but not the love it once knew.
Bitterness, in is place, becomes placating.
Filling the place where love was vacating.

Desperate for help.
Desperate for wholeness.

Where does she turn to?
Then she meets. Him.

And it is is He.

He who wrought it knows where they all are-- because-- He was also the He who bought it.
For, you see, to his His was done all these.

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