Theea
i have been trying to wander more
The gloves swallow my fingers a little, but I flex until they mostly cooperate and take the clippers, trash bag rustling at my hip. The southern path is quieter—twilight pooled in the flagstones, a soft wash of star‑light reflecting off… glass. Shards glitter everywhere, scattered like someone smashed a constellation and left the pieces behind.
I set the clippers aside and crouch, carefully sweeping each fragment into the bag. Reds, blues, a green wedge that flashes when I tilt it. “You’d make a gorgeous window,” I murmur to a piece before dropping it with the rest. I wish I knew how to set them in lead, melt them into something new instead of just throwing them away.
When the last sliver is gone and only dust glitters on my gloves, I clap my gloves together and opt to keep them on in case I missed more glass, and turn to the sagging lantern line. A few have fallen or twisted. I haul one up, trying to rehang it on its hook, then another, stretching on my toes to nudge them straight.
Theea heads down the southern path, throwing away glass and rehanging lights!
I set the clippers aside and crouch, carefully sweeping each fragment into the bag. Reds, blues, a green wedge that flashes when I tilt it. “You’d make a gorgeous window,” I murmur to a piece before dropping it with the rest. I wish I knew how to set them in lead, melt them into something new instead of just throwing them away.
When the last sliver is gone and only dust glitters on my gloves, I clap my gloves together and opt to keep them on in case I missed more glass, and turn to the sagging lantern line. A few have fallen or twisted. I haul one up, trying to rehang it on its hook, then another, stretching on my toes to nudge them straight.
Theea heads down the southern path, throwing away glass and rehanging lights!
i have been trying to breathe more, to love my lostness
