Reaching

A coin drops, rolling it begins to gather dust, spinning through behind an old newspaper. The one that you read last night that had the story about the person who did something to get attention and fail. It was a stupid ass thing.  You like stupid ass stories, they remind you that you are not crazy. Still, it becomes strange to imagine that somehow you would be consoled by a story about a person from years ago. As if somehow remembering that things have broken in the past will help you navigate the cracks that have formed themselves on the soles of your feet.

The world, you have been told, will cut you. Protect your soul

It continues to roll until it settles under the old rocking chair that your father bought but never used. The rocking chair that has always been a symbol of a possible future as opposed to a presence. In your mind you see your grandfather in that chair. He has been away for so long that you have begun to forget what he sounded like. You are afraid of that, that if that voice disappears there’s something that you need to let go of but won’t.

Pain brings you back to the present.

A rocking chair rocks against fingers that were never meant to be where they were – a coin remains lost.

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