Bells

“Bells, huh?”
“yep”
“why?”

She’d grabbed a small brass one,
cupped it by the sound rim,
the tinkle it made was muffled by her flesh
as the clapper fell to the inside.

“dunno, my parents started it.”
“parents?”
“yeah, you know what parents are?”
“of course, I had a couple.”

her eyes were honest,
trustworthy but sad at the same time,
the kind of sad that isn’t obvious until you
look past the teeth.

“my dad traveled a lot, he’d always bring these back from wherever he went.”
“So they’re like chapters in your early life?”
“They’re like reminders to prove that he never stopped existng when he wasn’t home.”

then a breath,
interesting how exhalation can mean so many different things,
this one was full of thoughts that were only spoken on the breeze of her lungs.

“That’s a lot better than a chapter.”

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