Marigold sat quietly at corner Café lit by sunset's dying glow. A cup of chai, abandoned at the brink of cool, sat before her. She watched that familiar coffee shop ritual— laughter mingling with steam, patrons wreathed in cigarette shadows, all ideas uttered drifting until they touch tender dreams.
In whispered notes, her name resonated among clinking mugs. Like a ghost tethered to forgotten spaces, each hesitant sip tasked her with revision of life’s tangled chapters. A voice held sacred by time yet marked by loneliness. Barry, Marigold’s sole companion, stood an invisible tether, grounding her in memories only he knew, the kind that hum on soul’s edge like dormant constellations waiting to burst alive.
Somewhere, laughter echoed whimsically. Aristocrats' dalliance with reality, adventurers poised on horizon, burdened only by expectations untethered. Clink of crystalline laughter engulfing all as Marigold sipped her own reflection, finding traces of voices unheard, guiding veils lifted for revealing veils anew. Useful cartographers subtone reality shifts as neural conversations stirred within vein spun crescents.
“Life, she murmured wistfully, can transform in a breath.” If stories spun web, she whispered, let mine entwine destiny’s orbit.
Catch a fragment