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Description
A small ship-in-a-bottle.

That was all that had survived David's rampage. It lay peacefully in the swath of destruction that was now his living room, reflecting the soft moonlight.

David stared. His breathing was shallow and ragged, as if he had just fought for his life. The blisters on his hands had re-opened, and were oozing blood. Hesitantly, he began walking toward the bottle. He stepped over broken glass, banged-up plastic, and various picture frames. They were her things. Useless, now.

He dropped to his knees in front of it. He carefully cradled it in his hands. His reflection stared back, almost like it was judging him. He shuddered at the sight. His black hair was ragged and hung in matted locks across his face. His eyes sagged.
Slowly, he began to turn the bottle around. There were words on the base, raised up from the rest of the glass.

"To Danielle," it read. "1876."

He swallowed. His eyes stung with new tears. He held it close.

Description
A small ship-in-a-bottle.

That was all that had survived David's rampage. It lay peacefully in the swath of destruction that was now his living room, reflecting the soft moonlight.

David stared. His breathing was shallow and ragged, as if he had just fought for his life. The blisters on his hands had re-opened, and were oozing blood. Hesitantly, he began walking toward the bottle. He stepped over broken glass, banged-up plastic, and various picture frames. They were her things. Useless, now.

He dropped to his knees in front of it. He carefully cradled it in his hands. His reflection stared back, almost like it was judging him. He shuddered at the sight. His black hair was ragged and hung in matted locks across his face. His eyes sagged.
Slowly, he began to turn the bottle around. There were words on the base, raised up from the rest of the glass.

"To Danielle," it read. "1876."

He swallowed. His eyes stung with new tears. He held it close.