[ yi sang fills the frame with shattered glass. hong lu looks. it must be, hong lu thinks, how a god once made the world. they must have done so in pieces, filling up nothing with something until all that was left was something. it must have been beautiful to behold. hong lu would have liked to see it.

it's then with some surprise that yi sang holds out the glass frame to him. hong lu's head tilts. he takes the frame into his hands. a decoration for their shared grave, hong lu thinks. this is the very first.

he feels warm. it's a new sensation. it's lovely. ]

Where should we hang it, Yi Sang?

[ hong lu holds it up. he peers at the far wall. ] Perhaps over there? There's sunlight striking the wall, so wouldn't it be nice if the glass shards got to bathe in sunlight every day? Perhaps they will wake up, and change shape.