The Museum


United States
41° 14' 39.2424" N, 85° 2' 1.4604" W

"Go away," the guard says to him.

But he begs and flatters his way in any way.
He looks around, beaming at all the shining pieces.
He picks them all up, pouring out complements as he goes.

Then, he reaches the back room.
There, all the darkest, ugliest, twisted pieces hide.
He takes a few steps in, clutching the pieces he loves to his pounding chest.
He attempts to add some of these pieces to his pile.
But these things are just too heavy.
He stops.

And, without warning, he turns and runs.
And he doesn't have the heart to return what he's taken.
He just drops what's in his arms.
He doesn't even flinch when he hears the shatter he's caused.
He dashes out the door without looking back.

"Come back," the guard begs of him.

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