Fleeting Exchanges
Customers lingered over the bread display, their hands hovering without choosing; a woman traced the crust of a rye loaf then stepped away empty-handed. A coolness rose from the porcelain counter, prickling against fingertips as if absorbing indecision with each touch. This subtle hesitation echoed in the shadowed garden beyond the window—forms there softened and blurred, losing definition within the deepening umber light, while dust hung thick in the air. The familiar pull of wanting felt less certain now, a thinning thread connecting intention to its object; something had subtly shifted about what was sought.