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i have adopted all the single mittens estranged from their left estranged from their right strangers who find them first understand abandonment on tree branches, fence posts, benches, they are gently placed to wait. i am not so naïve. retracing our steps has no part in the path of least resistance we simply throw the other glove away. so i take them in, place them in a trunk by the door and wait to find their throwaways (i am not so naïve) they’re all mismatched but at least they have that in common.

He was talking about the pyramids again. I half-listened, gently rearranging the crumbs that had fallen on the kitchen table with my forefinger. "I worked with granite for decades," A single splotch of tea, still wet, had landed on my otherwise pearl-white bookmark. For only a few precious seconds I could alter the pattern of the stain. I could tip the bookmark and cause it to run. Or perhaps use my dormant forefinger like a watercolour brush. "Those stones were cut with lasers. Two, three tonnes each." I elected to let the stain dry as it happened. I saw blandly into the future when it would remind me of this conversation, the tiny boulders made of biscuit crumbs I had rearranged into triangles, the radiator hissing softly in the corner, the faint smell of orange peel. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe when I had moved on to a new book altogether. Maybe on a plane a thousand miles away. "That's who put us here." I glanced up from my constructions. My eyes fell upon the ink banks of cyan, black and gold wrapped around his wrist. The lines were traced from a mental mathematic that shimmered in contrast with the blotches of red and brown that dotted his arm. You might guess his old age from the abstract painting his body had made of him. But the ink, golden from the setting sun was as timeless as the light that struck it. I went back to pushing crumbs before he noticed the break in my inner monologue. With one fluid sweeping motion he brushed away all my building materials to the floor. The Egyptian tattoo on his wrist flashing before me once more, moving all my miniature mountains effortlessly. "Let me get that out of your way" -j.ed