The Meaning of Isolated Objects

by Billie Hinton

Up in the blue sky two jet contrails formed a perfect X that stretched so far and wide she had to lean her head back to take it all in. The rune of partnership, Tristan whispered. Balance and harmony.

  She didn’t know, in the dream, if she would ever truly unearth Tag, his meaning, what purpose he had brought to her life. She asked it out loud: “who are you?”

  Words he didn’t speak appeared in her head like little beads of light. There was no way to translate, not even for herself. She returned to the brushes, tips of fingers dusted with powdered earth, clearing away the layers one by one, painstaking, meticulous work.

  She learned patience. She learned to wait. She learned to believe she would find what she was looking for.