She stood at the corner
waiting for the light to
turn. The afternoon sun
pressed against the back
of her neck, but she
felt nothing — just the
familiar distance between
herself and the street,
the people, the day.
A man with a small dog
passed. A cyclist rang a
bell. The light changed,
changed again, and she
was still standing there,
holding a coffee she no
longer wanted, wearing a
face she had forgotten
how to take off.
Then a child pointed at
the sky. She looked up.
There was nothing there —
just blue, wide and
ordinary and suddenly
enough.
She crossed the street.