jml297

Dear Lucy,

I’ve found somewhere — a small corner where I can be. It’s close to where we stayed as kids, though nowhere near as comfortable as the old aunt’s house.

The nights here are cool already; what will winter be like? I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but I have all I need. My life is simple now. It’s smaller, but it’s mine. I can’t tell you how that feels.

There’s a stray dog that comes around at night; it tucks up near my feet. When that warm, nuggety shape presses in close, it’s like holding a little fire against the cold.

I feel safer than I have in years, even though I have almost nothing. I’m barely seen by those around me — smiles without emotion, looks without connection. I’ve become a waif, a stray.

Always yours — by a small, steady light

This was written to a prompt in my writing group: a malicious smile. I presented it as four separate postcards across the seasons, and the postcards will be “posted” over four days.

Photo: autumn leaves