You were having... a day. You woke up to rain pounding on the roof and your father already gone. Your favorite breakfast food was nowhere to be found, and it was too windy to use your umbrella, so you walked into school soaked to the bone.

You thought that things would improve once you made it to school, but... You had a test first period. You'd forgotten your homework in third. And in fifth, your teacher was missing, replaced by the grouchiest substitute known to student-kind. (The man scolded you for sneezing, for crying out loud!)

Every time you thought the day was turning around, the universe would prove you wrong.

When you got home, you collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep, too emotionally exhausted to do much else. Once you were down, you were out for hours, only waking up after the sun was down to the sound of your dad putting a takeaway bag on the little dining table in the kitchen.

You stumbled in, rubbing your eyes, and accepted a glass of water and a kiss on your forehead from your father.

"Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" he asked, leaning against the countertop.

"Well—" As you spoke, you started to put down your glass. Unfortunately, you were just discombobulated, distraught, and distracted enough to misjudge how close the glass was to the edge of the counter. You let go, and it seemed to plummet to the ground in slow motion and shatter into more tiny pieces than there were stars in the sky.

That did it. Your face screwed up, and much to your father's alarm, you started to cry.

"Darlin', darlin'!" he yelped, pulling you against him. "What's wrong, what's happened? Ye don' need to cry, it's only one glass! We have plenty more!" He tried for a reassuring smile, but he couldn't hide the concern for his daughter. "Tell me what's goin' on, sweetheart."