Take the fall.

In your hands, crystal shards.

I told you. Again and again, I told you: be careful, don't drop it, don't let it fall, it's too fragile. You're always curious, as a child, your eyes always finding something, your hands always reaching out. Don't do it. You reached out. It was pretty, shiny, reflecting the warm light from the window. You hold it for a bit, watching it with your vivid eyes, it's light so attractive. Be careful, don't drop it. Too late.

No, it was not your fault. I shouldn't have left it within your reach. I should have placed high above, somewhere far away, so that you could see how pretty it was without touching it. Without risking to break it. You would see it, you'd feel warm with its reflected light, and you wouldn't touch it. Too late.

In your hands, crystal shards. Those you picked up from the cold floor, those from the shattered artifact. They still reflect light, sparks that set your hands ablaze. No, it cannot be fixed. We can try, but I doubt it. I know you're sorry. So am I.