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Held whole

January 6, 2011

The day felt like stones in her pockets, and she could not help but sit awhile, watching the sky turn from pink to deep blue, watching the moon rise above the city. She had woken that morning expecting to see herself in the mirror, but instead, she peered at a mosaic, her face cracked into small squares and reassembled, glued, shellacked.

It was quiet there, as the sun set and the moon rose. It got colder after awhile, but she stayed, listening to her heart beating, hoping its thud-thud would not crack any of the mortar holding her whole.

2 comments

  1. I’ve had days like that too. Thank you for describing it so beautifully. Days like stones in your pockets… I will remember that.


  2. Julie, thanks so much for your comment.



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