Grunting softly, Jordan rose to his feet, straightening himself out from his crouched position with his hands occupied by a broom and a dustpan filled with shards of the shattered vase; some of the broken pieces had blood splotches on them and sight of it pulled at the strings of Jordan's heart.
After carefully and properly disposing of the trash, Jordan walked into the living room, where Emerald sat, completely motionless as she continued to stare into space, something she had been doing before and after her crying episode.
Her posture was tense, stiff and almost defensive as she sat, her back not touching the backrest of the couch and her bandaged hands facing upwards on her thighs.