She wore her thoughts around her neck like heirloom pearls. Too nice to leave in a box, hidden in a drawer. Yet too private to wear them on her sleeve. So she wore them around her neck. They hung there, delicate and fragile, cascading over her collar bones and tinkling into her cleavage where they hid down deep in her belly. They were never very extravagant thoughts, mostly musings and titterings. Thoughts of birds sitting in her hand who weighed no more than warm air. Sometimes she thought grand thoughts but they often lost their oomph before whisping across her shoulder.

She walked silently, her dog pulling her to the beach. Across the dunes and over the dried seaweed. Hovering on the sweet salty air of a seagull swoon. She wondered what it would be like to be somebody. Somebody of substance, someone who had thoughts that bounded across the ravine and into the universe where they would do some good. Have some influence on world market decisions. She quietly touched her neck and counted her pearls as a passerby came near, her path wandering closer. 27 so far.

She noticed that the passerby walked with confidence, brisk and on purpose. Her feet landing exactly where she decided to put them and not a smidgen off center. Powerful and swift. She mumbled a little ‘morning’ to offer a sweet morsel of kindness. In response she received a ‘hello’ woven in rich red velvet that floated across her cheeks in the morning breeze and hovered there, smelling like a heady rose. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. What divinity. What generosity. With a  small smile she decided to keep that thought. Number 28 securely knotted; a thought worth keeping as the morning fog begin to lift, the sun softly warming.