A strong hand once held me. I sat on his palm as we talked. A young girl dressed in a white seer-sucker dress. The world passed us by as we walked. Animated and smiling I sat. Looking up at him and he looking down on me with a bright smile and reassuring blue eyes. Then one day his gaze flickered. Some sort of light caught his eye so he blinked twice. I should have noticed the first sign.
I sat on his palm as we planned. Each line carved on his hand was a life we could have had. The world passed us by as we talked of our future plans. Animated and smiling I sat. Then one day his arm hurt a little I asked why but his answer was non-committal. I felt his balance shift and to his left arm I was switched. I didn’t think nothing of it until he picked up a dime and wouldn’t stop staring at it. I should have noticed the second sign.
This new hand felt strong too. But it had lines I hadn’t seen, they were all too new. I tried to trace them with my breath, to make sense of the change. But his sight was diverted and his smile was distracted focused only on the shininess of the new dime he was twirling. I stood and asked for some time to talk but instead the dime said it wanted something it didn’t have. And he said, wait I can help with that. And he reached into his pocket and I saw he gave her his other hand and it held open his beating heart. And I noticed the third sign from the curb of the road as he and the dime walked on and passed me by.