I placed the letter in front of her.
She placed the finished piece in my hands. It was heavy. It was perfect. granny recaptured cracked
She took the mug back, held it up to the window so the weak winter light shone through the fissure. "Look closer," she whispered. The crack wasn't empty. She had filled it with liquid gold, so fine that it had seeped into every microscopic splinter. Where the clay had failed, the gold now lived. It wasn't a scar. It was a river. I placed the letter in front of her