devoari
The cracked heels of old women, the jagged edges of tough skin coming apart at the white cracks like sunburnt dirt.
It was only when she took off her shoes that she was in her element again, her toes sinking into the sand like fish gills opening in the water.
She is slightly disappointed when they leave the shop. It is not made up of unicorn hair or willow wood or anything remotely feminine at all. It is a plain and solid hickory with a bit of Common Ridgeback heartstring, an average wand reeking of cleaning charms and vegetable spells and mediocrity.
He runs his fingers over the books, tracing the warped spines and faded gilt with a sigh.
She walks like starlight twinkling through the cracks of night. It is a rambling butterfly's path of a stroll, hopping barefoot over the sidewalk cracks in the silver dress her mother made for her. She flickers from magnolia to mailbox to moonpuddle, her laugh twinkling in the darkness.