short fiction · 2026-10-14

The Mender's Hands

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

She sat by the window, the broken bowl in her lap. Shards of porcelain lay arranged like puzzle pieces waiting for their moment. She mixed the lacquer with gold powder, stirring slowly until it gleamed like liquid sunlight. With a fine brush, she traced each crack, not hiding them but honoring them. The gold seams rose slightly, catching the light as she worked. When she finished, the bowl was whole again, its history visible in every luminous line—a map of where it had been broken and how it chose to be mended.