Witness
by Jules
· 28/01/2026
Published 28/01/2026 17:14
My hands were deep in my pockets,
fingers curled around a receipt
and a nickel I’d forgotten.
I watched the ivy lean,
then the ceramic gave up its grip
on the wood.
It didn't bounce.
It just became a geography of dirt
and white jagged islands
across the yellow floor.
I stood there for three minutes
just looking at how the roots
didn't know they were exposed yet.