She almost threw it in the trash. Her hand hovered over the bin.
Mark set it down with a soft thud. “Okay,” he said, and walked back to the living room. carla piece of art
She placed the piece on the highest shelf in the kitchen, where no one would knock it over. Then she went to bed, and for the first time in years, she dreamed in color. She almost threw it in the trash
Carla smiled.
The piece had no title, no obvious meaning. The dent was deliberate. It fit her thumb perfectly, as if the clay had grown around it. When she held it, she could feel the ghost of every pressure point, every hesitation, every moment she almost gave up. “Okay,” he said, and walked back to the living room
But Carla knew better. This was her masterpiece.
He walked over, picked it up with two fingers, and turned it over. “What is it?”