short fiction · 2026-10-14

Golden Seams

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the quiet of the mind, a memory fractures like old porcelain—sharp edges catching on the breath. Instead of hiding the split, I trace each line with liquid gold, letting the light pool in the fissures. The repair does not erase the break; it makes the damage visible, a map of where I have been held and how I have learned to hold myself. Each gleaming seam whispers that what was shattered can still carry weight, can still catch the sun, and can still be beautiful precisely because it was mended, not forgotten.