The Way It Is

The more things change, the more they stay the same. The trees rustled like impatient children and the wind stole their newborn leaves. A feeling is carving a message into the beach, temporary, with the tide coming closer to wash it away. All circles have the potential to be concentric with one another. She coughed brown mucus into the basin, heaving like a machine. Nobody knew but everyone guessed. Wrinkled clothing littered the floor, discarded and disheveled. Was that blood? Silken apologies are beautiful, comfortable, and come at a high price.