The Glass
A story of glass, distance, and what can’t quite be touched.
The Glass
As they walked past,
Lia noticed their liveliness —
life projected outward,
illuminating her own broken projector.
The bench had its own concerns:
flaking paint,
bird stains,
the burden of listening.
Still, this was her spot.
Her daily spot for observing,
for thinking,
for hoping.
Hoping to break the glass
between herself and the world.
When she rose,
her blue scarf moved with the wind.
Shadows danced across the bench,
while passersby continued projecting their lives.
Tomorrow she will return.
Her hand on the glass.
Her gaze fixed on the world
she cannot enter.
Still reaching for the imagined.