The following is what my brain comes up with when I happen to ignore the metaphor of the glass ceiling in Rachel Platten’s “Broken Glass.”
Rachel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her middle, and made her way over to the sink to dry her hair. Kevin knocked on the bathroom door to see if he could come in.
“Morning Babe!” Rachel said, turning towards her husband.
“Morning,” Kevin said, kissing her.
Realizing he’d stepped in something, he looked down. “Um, did you know you’re bleeding?”
“… No,” Rachel said, reluctantly looking down to see a puddle of blood surrounding her foot.
She wrapped her arm around his shoulder as he put his hand on her waist and helped her hobble to the bedroom.
“Okay,” Kevin said as Rachel sat down on the bed. “I’m gonna go get some bandages and then we’ll take a look at the damage.”
Rachel had no idea what she’d stepped on. She obviously stepped on something, but for some reason, she didn’t feel anything at all. And her foot didn’t even hurt that much. Hopefully this didn’t mean something was wrong.
“Alright, let’s take a look,” Kevin said, coming back with bandages and tweezer, squatting down to foot level.
Rachel dutifully lifted up her foot.
“Ah, here we go,” he said, grabbing the tweezers and yanking something out of her foot.
“Ow! Watch it!” she said playfully.
Seconds later, he held up a small, broken piece of glass.
“Well, that’s what I get for writing songs about it,” she laughed.
“At least you’re not dancing on it.”
“Really? Do you know how much of a dork you sound like right now?”
“Oh, come on, you love me for it!” Kevin said, wrapping her foot in a bandage. “You walked right into that trap anyway.”
“I do love you for it. Thanks honey.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling.