The Crack

Nobody was looking at the crack. A few hadn't noticed, but most had chosen to look away. Of those, some were afraid they would see it get bigger and some were afraid it would become theirs to attend to. I had been of all three types in my time. They all had me smooth on the surface and cracked somewhere beneath. So now I look, ready for painful truth, ready to bear responsibility. Or so I thought. Tell me – being the only one brave enough to look - shouldn't that be enough?