His life was like a broken plate of glass, the shards lying scattered about his feet. No effort had been made to clean the mess, dispose of the shards, or replace the glass. He merely tiptoed around, careful to avoid the shards. Sometimes he was successful. More often he was not. Yet, still they lay there. There were times when he thought he would never be whole again.
"You okay, Blair?"
"Not really."
"When you get ready to talk about it, I'm here, buddy. Okay?"
Those broken shards had been there a long time. Maybe too long.
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm ready."