Monday, April 29, 2013


Let me help you with that he said
She hands him her broken sunglasses
He takes them with brown competent hands
Rolls them over
Eyes them seeking the problem

She watches wondering why she didn't fix them herself
I always fix them myself
I can fix them myself
I should fix them myself
I fix everything myself

Her hands ache to take back her glasses
Her competence and skills strain to prevail
But a tiny sense of prescience blocks her instinct
Instead she sits back in her chair
Sips her coffee and epiphanizes

In an instant he hands her sunglasses back
Intact and whole ready to wear again
She places them on her head
And finally knows in that moment
What help and care feel like

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