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Flash Fiction

Events are rearranged, symbols condensed
If he wasn’t careful, the day would dissolve
Ritual supplies that permission.
He stopped a few paces short.
The day shaped itself.
They were pinned with her charcoal sketches
Progress as virtue. Motion as meaning. Improvement without finish.
The unit of meaning shrank
“You’re reacting to the symptom,” Elara said.
The feeling is fond, not restless. Like remembering a place without packing a bag.
It was a complex spiral of translucent violet petals
Opposite side of the planet. Night there.

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