Kiki approached the alley—marked by a charcoaled cat whose visage seemed to imply it had been the recipient of more undesired luck than it had portended. Natheless, she set forward forth, shortly after which a glimmer from the walk called her attention to what was surely an assurance of street’s truly serendipitous nature. As she brought it closer for inspection, she initially felt fooled by her hopefulness, having let the shine of such brockage deceive its worth. Her unfamiliarity with its face, though, prompted her to pocket it, purposing protection of its peculiarity. Upon reaching her destination—borough’s bakery, she procured list’s three loaves and, then, as she walked to register, wondered if her extra coin might afford a croissant for snack. The cashier’s eyes squinted, dilated, and, then, she reached under the counter, retrieving an envelope in which she secured afternoon’s find, returning it to payee with a mother’s look. Walking home the same way she had come—well, tempoed to more of a skip, Kiki held tight to the [repocketed] wrapped disc, the warmth of her hand slowly softening nubs off the paper. And, in the other hand, she happily enjoyed bites of her croissant—twixt boot taps of her homebound jaunt. ; )
Chairs just may sidle themselves up to those looking to be stars of their own show once such cast members reflect upon past laze, seidels and decide, “Time to go.” ; )
Perhaps, securing peace is celebrated best by waving off flags enrapturing militainment in favour of pennants proclaiming power in the polychromatism of peoples and personalities who produce pleasances of partnership. ; )