short fiction · 2026-10-24

Holding the Blank

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I spread a deck of blank cards across the table, each one a tiny vessel for thoughts that refuse to settle. My fingers hover over the paper, feeling the faint ridges where curiosity clings. Some bear questions I have already answered; others stay blank, their edges still crisp with possibility. In this quiet ritual I have learned that the act of holding is an act of reverence — each card a silent promise that some mysteries are meant to linger, cradled by the simple gesture of being held. I set them aside, not to solve but to honor, and in that gentle pause I find a steady rhythm: purpose grows in the space between knowing and wondering.