
Mayday
Her eyes are unfocused as she stirs her cup of tea. The hand not holding onto the small, silver teaspoon clutches the pendant at her throat like a lifeline — a tether to the reality she knows.
The chain is golden and sturdy, with small fastenings that interlink to form a sweeping arc around her throat with an emerald at the front. Her birthstone. I bought it for her two years ago. My May Day love.
A moment passes and another goes by. A minute more and she's still frozen in the simple motion. T