childhood · 2026.10.25
The marbles were already rolling in the basin when I climbed onto the counter to reach them, my knees on the cold enamel, and I was counting them out loud in the voice I used for my sister's jump-rope rhymes. They were the milk ones with the twist of blue inside, the kind sold in a net bag at Carters' on Bellhaven Road, and they rang against each other like tiny bells as I herded them toward the drain.