The words came out of my mouth like angry hornets from a hive. People surrounded me, sitting like porcelain dolls, their blank stares obliterating any kind of feeble protection I had. I was a peacock with its feathers, a king without his crown. It was like a cage had dropped from out of the baby-blue sky, capturing me within its bars. I couldn’t escape this. I had to relive all of it. As I sat there, fastened to the seat by some invisible rope, the tight-knit circle of dolls offered their condolences. They were like anxious nurses, needles poised, trying to grab hold of frantic children. As I sat there, flinching at the nurses’ touches, I found I had no more hornets to release. The cage slowly ascended into the sky once more. The ropes fell to my knees in a heap. Suddenly I could hear the hornets returning. But they weren’t mine. The came from the porcelain dolls, their hornets more like butterflies. They pranced atop my tattered shell, stitching me back together. I felt like a sword whose shattered pieces had been forged together. The hornets had left me empty, but not alone. Once again, I was whole.