An Empty Glass

From John Torcello


It sat on the bar that night like so many nights before looking used and marred by handling.  

Instead of its once crystal clear glistening appearance, it sat there alone, yellowed by the apparent stain of remnants of something once inside but now gone.  

Accepting its existence and purpose of being; more or less ignored by its multiple users.  Once it had been emptied of its contents, it just sat there passively listening to all of the stories; the boasting, the bravado, the sadness, the cheers.  

And yet again, they all had finished with it; tonight, left alone by itself in the early morning hours   

Now the glass was ready to move on, ready to be washed, refreshed and re-shelved for another day...another round.

But tonight its existence would be different.  

Tonight the empty glass would get its revenge.  In a split second, in its last moments of purpose, it would shine like never before and beautifully reflect and bend the available light from the room in many directions like a prism.  

The glass was dropped to the floor; it shattered into hundreds of pieces...and, it seems, finally got the attention it felt it had so deserved; after night after night of quiet service.

The sound it made when the now broken empty glass crashed to the floor made it the center of attention to the people in the mostly empty bar.   

Even more satisfying for the glass was the need for its owner and handler to have to pickup its shattered pieces, clean up the mess, and finally serve the glass for its own sake.  

This surely was more than any previous share of attention throughout its life the glass had ever experienced; ironically, only now, at the time of its looming burial.  

But the glass wasn't finished yet...in one of its last acts prior to heading to oblivion in the trash can, it drew blood from its handler in his attempt to bury the pieces of the broken glass in the trash can once and for all.  

The glass which had for so long served so many so well, which had sat there quietly and returned to service night after night; with no recognition of its use or importance; had its final revenge and was outwardly cursed to hell by the one it had served so well.  

In its destruction, its last and accidental act, the empty glass had finally been heard, been seen, was recognized and caused blasphemy; it died happy...it got its revenge.

Later, the pieces of the empty glass ultimately were melted together with the pieces of other empty, broken glasses; to be reborn again in a new form; perhaps in a new shade with a new color; to return and serve those who would once again own it, ignore it, abuse it and use it until it found its release; its supposed happiness again...through revenge and subsequent release by its certain death.