When the Cycle Returns, Do We?

There is a way the day slips away without ever announcing its departure. Not in hours, but in fragments. A glance that lingers too long, a scroll that begins without intention, a thought that drifts and quietly takes the rest of the afternoon with it.

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The Weight That Stays

It was a small thing, almost easy to miss. The way the old shopkeeper at the corner handed back change, not by dropping the coins into the customer’s palm, but by placing them there gently and waiting a brief second longer than necessary. As if making sure the other person felt it, not just received it.

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