She Saw Herself Moving Through Another Life,

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.

There Was Something Not Quite Right About Her Eagerness, An Eerie Kind Of Voyeurism In Her Need For Bad News.

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.

He Wished He Had Some Kind Of X-ray Vision For The Human Heart.

Short On Money, Long On Hope