nursing fear

Because little things make her happy, little things also make her unhappy. She, who finds kernels of doubt easily.

And the sun sees her pottering around in a phantom nursery, watering those seedlings in her mind. In his yellow mercy, he averts his eye and lets the sky turn cloudy, so she cannot conjure up their growth.

But she potters on anyway, growing paler day by day, because the sun, even the sun – she thinks – has turned away.