Thread
She carries with her, everywhere she goes, a long silvery thread, and at the end of each day she sits, and upon her leg, upon her knee to be exact, she places the thread, coiled, carefully, and watches it to make sure it doesn’t fall or blow away in the breezes that move through her room. And of course she falls asleep like this; and when she wakes each morning, at first she jolts a little at the thought, cold and sharp, that the thread might be gone, might no longer be on the knee, on the leg where she … Continue reading Thread
