Hands touching hands touching hands...
In the middle of the night the world goes thump, when hands touch hands that touch hands.
"What is that?"
Parchment held up to the light. Thick, blotched, dotted with print. Indecipherable.
"Just an old scrap of paper."
But it isn't, it isn't at all.
Common is what it is, just the same as all the rest. Instantly blending in, needing no masks or disguises. Perfectly ordinary. And hopelessly lost.
"Lost in the Commons, or commonly lost?"
"Does it matter?"
Possibly. Possibly it is the thing that matters most of all.
But no, that would be ridiculous.
"Of course" she says, as she leans over the balcony to examine the early morning bustle of the city; "of course it would be."
Just a touch of wistfulness catches in her throat.
"What is that?"
Parchment held up to the light. Thick, blotched, dotted with print. Indecipherable.
"Just an old scrap of paper."
But it isn't, it isn't at all.
Common is what it is, just the same as all the rest. Instantly blending in, needing no masks or disguises. Perfectly ordinary. And hopelessly lost.
"Lost in the Commons, or commonly lost?"
"Does it matter?"
Possibly. Possibly it is the thing that matters most of all.
But no, that would be ridiculous.
"Of course" she says, as she leans over the balcony to examine the early morning bustle of the city; "of course it would be."
Just a touch of wistfulness catches in her throat.