A Moment Might Be A Thousand Different

She Didn't Love Him And He Didn't Love Her; She Was Like An Addiction, And What They Were Doing Had A Darkness To It, A Weight.

He Fished In His Pocket For His Keys And Instead Pulled Out The Last Geode, Gray And Smooth, Earth-shaped. He Held It, Warming In His Palm, Thinking Of All Mysteries The World Contained: Layers Of Stone, Concealed Beneath The Flesh Of Earth And Grass; These Dull Rocks, With Their Glimmering Hidden Hearts.

The City Of Pittsburgh Gleaming Suddenly Before Her . . . So Startling In Its Vastness And Its Beauty That She Had Gasped And Slowed, Afraid Of Losing Control Of The Car

Her Voice, High And Clear, Moved Through The Leaves, Through The Sunlight. It Splashed Onto The Gravel, The Grass. He Imagined The Notes Falling Into The Air Like Stones Into Water, Rippling The Invisible Surface Of The World. Waves Of Sound, Waves Of Light: His Father Had Tried To Pin Everything Down, But The World Was Fluid And Could Not Be Contained.

This Was Her Life. Not The Life She Had Once Dreamed Of, Not A Life Her Younger Self Would Ever Have Imagined Or Desired, But The Life She Was Living, With All Its Complexities. This Was Her Life, Built With Care And Attention, And It Was Good.