The Broken Abacus

She could climb the stairs. She had been. Doing so for years. Taking away choices. And offering new ones. Adding sticks to the fire. And numbers to the whole. Making what was big small. And what was hard soft. Telling her stories with only an end to guide her. Everything before that coming after she had decided.

Examining the moments in all their many flaws. The fraying capes of weak magicians. As if the world is ours to manipulate. And all these lies could be true given the right circumstances.

Arranging the pillars. Footnotes in this absolute fury. Tethers of skin pulling us all at once. Toward a beginning we never had the opportunity to experience.

We fight with the numbers. Soft ladders following the cliffs. As the ground inches closer. She wonders at the weakness of gravity. How it so easily tricks us.

As they all fall down.