The story
There were two tickets for a train that kept being tomorrow. The clay came off the wheel the color of station brick, and the inside glazed up like a bad-decision caramel coffee.
We took the train. The mug stayed home and held the story better than the seats did — less delay, warmer hands.
One of a kind, the way a trip you finally take is one of a kind. When this one leaves the mound, that particular brick-red does not get thrown again.



