“Don’t step on it!”
She had an eye for fragile, temporary things. Dew drops on blades of grass, and patterns of mist on windows, pollen on the windshield, the way the apples leaned up against each other in the basket.
I looked down at the slick of colors and I think I saw what she did. The mystery of the universe in a chance coalescence. The oil. The light. Us. Just so.
“The blue matches your shoes,” she said.
I smiled back at her. I can’t explain why, but I was never happier than that exact moment.
(Photo: Aqsa Hu)