“Damian, why did you trash the rooms?” I asked him as he lay on top of me, his head on my stomach.
He didn’t say anything, so I sat up, so that we were facing each other.
“Do you not want to tell me?” I reached out my hand to brush his hair away from his eyes, a gesture to tell him that it would be okay whether he told me or not.
“No.. I just..” He was thinking about how to tell me about it, it showed on his face. He was unsure of how to tell me. “When you left, I broke,” he said at last.
I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “But why the glasses?” Now that I thought about it, he only broke everything that he could see his reflections in them - mirrors, glasses, TVs.
