Ali stretched his hand towards the night sky and pulled down a crescent of milk-white seaglass, polished smooth by decades of waves. ‘Here is all the moon I can reach,’ he said. His lover smiled in silence, her eyes full of starlight. She touched the glass to her lips.
He stood in the rain holding a tray with six glasses, singing “Happy birthday to me” as the glasses slowly filled.
I can’t say no to beauty. That’s why you brought me flowers, plate-sized sunflowers that sizzled, blood-red roses dripping dew…. Then one day – Leave them there on the floor. I can smell your betrayal through the crushed chrysanthemums. Walk away and leave me with the broken vase. I could name the pieces poetically but now the glass is only a function no longer needed. Be proud of what you have done.
“All improvement is change, but not all change is improvement” he said. Jim just gaped at him through the smoke and broken glass.