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For almost three full minutes.

It helps that Fausto comes into the house and walks straight to the kitchen, where he stands staring into the open refrigerator as though a meal might spontaneously assemble itself if he gives it enough time.

“There’s chicken,” our mother says without having to glance in his direction.

“I know.”

“Then why are you still looking?” I ask.

“Mamá,” he whines, turning around with a little dramatic pout. “She’s bullying me.”

Our mother huffs, and he pulls a plate from the cabinet and starts serving himself, talking to our mom about something happening on campus later in the week. I only half listen while I finish the bracelet in my hands, tying it off and setting it with the others.

My phone remains face down beside me.

And I know Merry is still there in the missing earring and the silly pictures on my phone, in the memory of waking up in her bed yesterday and needing several seconds to remember where I was. In the way I catch myself wondering whether she’ll come into The Spindle tomorrow or whether I should ask when I can see her again.

And somehow, everything else is still here, too.

My mother and brother arguing about his eating habits. Maggie’s unread message about plans later this week. Luis’s endless thread of memes that remind him of things that happened at work.

My life, exactly where I left it.

The realization comes and goes so quietly I almost miss it.

I reach for the next order.

It’s a custom piece, which always takes longer than I plan for. The woman who ordered it gave me a handful of colors she likes and a few words about what she wants it to represent, but left the rest to me. I start sorting through stones, putting combinations together and taking them apart again until something feels right.

It’s nearly nine by the time I finish.

Fausto has all but disappeared, and Mamá has migrated to the couch, where the television is playing loudly enough that I can hear every single word from over here. Maggie and I have exchanged three messages about Thursday and settled absolutely nothing.

And Merry sent me one final message.

Merry

Please tell me you’re not emotionally attached to this earring because your chances of seeing it alive again are decreasing by the minute.

I type back before I can overthink it.

Flora

Maybe I’ll have to come get it myself

I stare at the message for half a second before sending it. Then I put the phone down.

Merry isn’t the only person who can ask for things, I guess.

I start cleaning up the table, putting the finished pieces into bags and returning the loose stones to their containers. When I open my laptop to print shipping labels, the Whisp tab is still sitting in the corner of my browser, and a notification waits beside it.

Primavera1959

I think your stupid assignment is working

I smile.

The Third Fairy