The crumbs in the bottom of her bag, told a more complete story, than any questions asked. The bits that had been crushed by all the books. The sane from the beach. Bit of bagel from that lunch date she'll never forget. Flecks of foil wrapper from the chocolate she ate during that bleary eyed drive home, late at night. The pieces that have been ground down and worn by every passing sun and moon act as the time line of her life. Potato chips that slipped in as she retrieved her phone to get his number at that party. Tea leaves and pebbles she had collected from the river bank, and a crushed maple leaf that had floated down during the autumn walks. The crumbs in the bottom of her bag tell the story of a woman, who has been place, had adventures... and doesn't clean often.

04/11/2013

Author's Note: For Kate..

Posted on 04/12/2013
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