The heavy drawer of the world slides open, a vault of cold steel and quiet memories. We hide our faces when the grief is too sharp, clinging to porcelain masks and fractured glass, trying to hold onto reflections that no longer fit. But look past the servers, past the broken mirrors. The heavy metal begins to dissolve. The weight of the illness, the pain of the flesh, melts away into floating spheres of light. They rise effortlessly down the long, quiet aisle. Free from the chrome archive, the spirit untangles from the wires and the stone. No more hospital beds, no more static hum. Just a peaceful ascension into the timeless quiet, leaving the shattered glass behind, finally light, finally free.