Teressa
Every single crystal whispered to her, you don't belong here.
Jenny fought the urge to laugh. She tipped the champagne flute to her lips and concentrated hard on the man's face. His slightly greying hair, his lively eyebrows, the long Roman nose. Her lips quivered and she made an involuntary noise. Quick thinking, she accompanied it with eyebrow work of her own and he assumed he'd said something witty. Art, she thought. Nice work if you can get it.
"Did you just call me fat?"
I like to think that if I saw the miraculous I would recognise it, know it instantly. But so often we pass by with our heads screwed down into our shoulders, our minds too full of doing and having and finishing to turn aside to notice the thing that shouldn't be. We trample holy ground beneath office shoes and rub at our sore necks and aching temples, utterly oblivious to the toe singe-ing, life-changing 'shouldn't-be's that hide in plain sight, waiting for those who will simply look up.
Only in stillness do you notice the beauty of the bumblebee.
I am overly analytical. Is that a good sentence? Should I have started out like that? What does it say about my personality?