She knelt on the tile floor, carefully picking up the shards of glass. Why did it have to be this one that broke? The dust swirled from the broken jar as water trickled out, bits of greenery carried along with it. World jars were expensive, and none to easy to make or acquire.

Another small little universe left to dry on the floor. She wept a bit as she tried to sweep the glass together with her hands, avoiding the sharp edges. She really should get a broom, but the strength to stand seemed to have left her. Why did it have to be this one? It had such promise, microscopic homunculi hunting tiny microfauna in an endless expanse of greens and reds. Iron filings because vast mountain plateaus, rusting and oxidizing under the lamps. All that work was gone now.

She had one jar left, but no desire to spoil the lovely emptiness of it. She kept hoping for something to appear, ex nihilo. Wouldn't that be delightful? A spontaneous world, nothing to start it, no expectations. She was unsure about putting something in it, she didn't want to get too attached. But as her thoughts drifted, she felt a quick sharp pain as the clear glass of the broken world jar sliced open her thumb.

She brought it quickly to her mouth to suck the blood, when the thought occured to her. Why not try something that truly was her. A world of her, her blood and her tears, her flesh and her breath. She picked the empty jar in there, and let some drops of blood fall in, mixed in some tears, and swept some skin cells in as well. She breathed in, glanced at the broken world on the floor and exhaled.