One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

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"Vandalism is Therapy" now reads, "Vandalism is Therapy With 1 Gram of Carbs"

He put his arm around me and whisked me over to the corner; three earrings rested on the varnished maple floor. I fell upon them in delight. Two were rectangular transparent green gems set in gold, and the third was a pale blue stone set in silver which had been wrought in delicate geometric patterns. Suddenly, to my great dismay, I realized that these treasures belonged not to us, but to the mistress of the house in which we worked as servants.

He knew every secret passageway of the old house better than anyone, it was no wonder he had been able to find these. I looked up at him. He wore his usual serene smile, unperturbed by the possible repercussions should these trinkets be found missing ... it was as though the concept of "ownership," when applied to someone else, was nothing to him. The only people that meant anything to him in the world were the two of us. Anything could be taken from anyone but us ...

I found that I could not possibly return the earrings to their proper spot under his gaze. I had a nagging feeling that if I ever did put them back where they belonged, he would somehow spirit them back to me, for he took too great a delight in "providing" for me. He did not realize that I did not need or really want everything I admired. But I could not bear to keep them! I knelt and hid the earrings underneath an end table. He fell asleep on the pale yellow couch, smile unchanged.

It hasn't appeared again.
Tags: dream writing, photography

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