The Shattered Glass Tray

My mother has a strange ability. She sometimes knows things before they occur. These are never happy premonitions, only warnings of trouble or sadness. She says this trait runs in our family, a legacy from her own father, who also experienced unexplainable events.

One afternoon, we had a terrible argument. I ran to my bedroom, my heart aching more than I thought possible. I stood before my dresser mirror, tears streaming down my face.

Suddenly, a sharp crack broke the silence. It was the sound of something breaking. I looked at the mirror, but it was perfectly fine. Turning around, I saw it. My favorite glass dish, which had held my small treasures, lay in fragments on the floor. It had been whole just moments before.