After her parents died she disappeared into the window seat where her fingers, like her lips, made no sound as she shaped pieces of paper pulled from a sheaf on her lap, fashioning things that move in the world. Swans. Horses. Boats.
One morning, craving a voice, perhaps even the touch of a hand, she decided to fold herself a man. She was concentrating so hard that she never even noticed the workers, sent by her brother, entering the house to prepare it for sale. They never noticed her either, boarding up the opening to the window seat, trapping her and the paper man.
Day in and day out, people stopped in front of the window, looking at their own reflections or straightening clothing or fixing hair, not even seeing her, alongside her folded man, sitting still in the window seat.
One day, a boy threw a stone, broke the glass, and the shocked wind blew in, unfolding the man and sending him right out the window, where he tipped his hat to her before tripping down the stairs and heading into the street, leaving her alone once again.
Louella Lester loves living in Winnipeg, Canada. She was a teacher for years and then it took a while for her to call herself a writer/photographer, but she does now. Her work’s been published in a wide variety of journals and anthologies. Her quirky CNF book, Glass Bricks (At Bay Press, 2021), is filled with micro/flash length stories about all the jobs she’s done and includes a few flights of fancy.
The Ekphrastic Review
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