Fragments

We seem to live our lives in terms of moments. Fragments of time and thought that stick, like bubble gum to the bottom of our shoes, only to be carried on. These are the pieces we build ourselves around. We navigate through snowstorms and midnight coffee to arrive as self-proclaimed heroes. No crowds to applaud and certainly not too many damsels in distress, but both are merely a side-effect. We have paper shredders and siblings. We have dogs and neighbors who need to borrow a cup of sugar. We have enemies and friends, all in the comfort of a ten block radius. We stand outside doors and listen to unsuspecting parties. We leave dollar bills inside the pages of library books. We pretend to drop a quarter next to the kid and the gumball machine. Maybe he will buy it, enjoy it; and just maybe it will fall and stick to his shoe. Maybe he will learn to love someone someday, become a hero, make late night friends, breathe music and run across open spaces and jump buildings and live in the light, collect fragments like no one has before.