Granule

I was looking for a hair tie in the lining,

but my fingers found something sharp.

A handful of sugar packets from the diner

where you told me you were finally leaving.

I took them while you were paying the check.

I wanted the owner to notice the loss,

to feel a tiny dent in his daily profit.

But one of them has leaked into the seam,

leaving a gritty sand that won't come out.

I can feel the crystals under my nails,

small and stolen and useless.