I'm thinking about it a lot more; lately. About IT, you know, that, that little veil that I own that I placed on a mantel a few years back and now I want it back. It was at some relative's house and they have it, and although I keep calling, they will not mail it. Discrepancy, is what hinders. Nothing else, really. It's a really pretty veil, I tell everyone I meet. It's silver, almost, almost shiny as if a fabric could be golden silver.
Yet in its hard tones, it is as soft as a soul in a prison watchtower, who watches the files of criminals as they pass by, wishing for a past of schools and homes and parents who cared enough, just enough...
I think about it every night, and I pick up the phone and dial the number every night, but right when she answers; I hang up.
