#19. Eligible.

The weather had been strange for days.
Chairs inching away from desks.
Books returning to the wrong shelves.
Time arriving early
and leaving before the second act.

She told no one.
Dressed for several climates at once:
boots and silk, umbrella and sunglasses.
Her bag heavier each day –
a receipt,
a feather,
a spool of black thread.

On Thursday, the sky opened.
A message folded into the light:
You have been eligible for healing for quite some time.

The air pressed against her coat.
Something in the distance,
unhurrying,
began to rearrange itself.