four times the hour fell past her
as she crouched behind the counter
regarding the stain on the tile,
no longer spreading.
as each chime hit she blinked
once
but never found the clarity she'd shattered
with one desperate blow.
it was the fifth hour,
as the dawn crept slowly across the back lawn
like a barefoot child with no concept
of what she'd done,
she released what she held clenched in her hand,
heard it clatter,
and soothed the grooves she'd worn in her palm
by picking up the phone.
--
Title and this picture are prompt.
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