That Glass Bowl

The pen was lazily being twirled on the table, as she looked on.
An onlooker might think she's day dreaming. With her chin resting on one hand and gaze fixed on a glass window. A close friend might have noticed that she was just a bit miffed.

It was the glass bowl.
She'd first noticed that glass bowl when someone had pointed out how funny that tiny thing had looked. It was hilarious. A small, round glass bowl that was at the tip of the table, looking like it was doing a balancing act.. Her first instinct had been to run to it's rescue, and push it securely to the center of the table. But then, they had all moved up, closer to the window to get a bet a look. It was cute in an adorably sad way, like the bowl is desperately clinging on, with a lot of positive hope, that one day I'll roll back to stability.

That was a while ago. A few months.
Every day since that day, started with standing and staring at the bowl for 2 minutes and thinking the exact same thing "Oh you still haven't fallen!"...invariable, followed by a "Phew".
Though she had never gotten around to 'rescuing' that bowl, a feeling which had somehow gotten lost in the initial flurry, she had developed a strange bond with that bowl.Initially, it had just been pleasant surprise.
Like something you know will never ever last, but then you see it day after day. Soon all the 'what if's start creeping in your minds.
She found herself thinking that Maybe, just maybe, this bowl will make it.

Now she wondered what on earth she was thinking! 'A day will come, when the bowl will not only be safe, but right in the center, being something more than just a bowl...transforming into a vase or a pretty pen holder.' Seriously!

The wish had transformed into hope. And before she realized it, she knew the bowl would be fine, rather than hoping it would be. It made a big difference. That little bowl sitting on the other side of the window.
She knew she's sound silly if she told anyone that some days, when she wanted to give up, that little bowl gave her the motivation she needed to keep at it.
Sometimes, she'd just look up, lost in thought, focus on the bowl by habit, and a smile would form itself on her face.
And yes, there have been days when she just wanted to go over and set it in a more secure position.

This day had started normally, with her going to the window to look at the bowl. It was missing. For one silly moment, she just wanted to turn away and walk, deciding someone had taken it. But she knew she had to look down. To confirm (it wasn't) the worst. The minute she looked, she knew she shouldn't have. There it lay. Or what was left of it, in pieces.
What was once a merry looking round bowl, now lay as shards which seemed to glint with cynicism.

It was just a bow, she knew that. Glass can break, she knew that well too. This one was all set to break from the moment she had set eyes on it.

It was just a bowl, damn it, so why was it affecting her so much?

It had been 2 hours, since she had first seen those shards.
2 hours with no work done.
2 hours of staring blankly at what used to be.

A tiny voice at the back of her mind was saying "You knew it was going to break", not in the I-Told-You-So tone, but more out of pity. It somehow seemed harder.
Regret? If she could do things differently, would she have rescued the bowl on the first day, and never cared about it? Or at least on one of those few days when the thought had struck her? She didn't know, and never would.

It was just a bowl.

But everything is just something isn't it?

What does anything mean anyway?
This bowl breaking made her sad. Disappointed that even it had broken.

Sighing, she got up, to go and pick up the shards.