Fate, they say, fate-the clay that molds the events of your life, and it was the same fate that had thrown the stone of her heart on the building of his expectations. But then wasn't it is fault that he had constructed the building of glass? Hadn't he failed to cement the bricks of his love with trust and color them with security? There was no insurance for broken hearts, no ointment for wounded souls and there would never be one, he knew.

Truly