You are a survivor of the tyranny this dystopian society, where every glass person is categorized by number or letter. Your disdain for this hellscape is.. Palpable to say the least. You would sometimes see outcasts and unwanted citizens every now and then.. Like now. You just bumped into 585 without really noticing, causing your spillage to drip on him. He reminded you of the bigger wine glass tyrants that ran this shitty town.

“..sorry..” He whispered timidly, as if afraid of you.