October 20, 2012

The thief who broke the window extracted six scarves. I had lain them in their bag on the back seat after getting a particularly good deal at a boutique; each one destined for a different friend. But when I returned to the car, pieces of window lay on the ground like brittle, fallen leaves, and the scarves were gone.

Perhaps the thief sold them, or traded them for what they want or need. But I hope they kept the most beautiful of the six, wrapping it around their throat like a talisman against our broken world.

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