Ash and Starlight

The pottery kiln shed at Mirela's studio sits open to the summer night, warm from the day's firing. Mirela left a note on the wheel before she stepped out for 'just a moment' — three hours ago. The finished pots cool on the drying shelf, and somewhere in the shed is the piece she was most proud of: a bowl she inscribed with a small map to something she called 'the gift.' You were not supposed to come tonight. But the shed door was ajar, and the light inside was amber, and you couldn't help yourself.