found omens in ordinary places

There is a kind of beauty in the things people leave behind without meaning to: a single black glove on a fence spike, a cracked porcelain doe in a thrift-store window, a house key with no house left to remember it.

I have been collecting little accidental omens lately. Not stealing them exactly, just noticing them and writing them down before the day can smooth them into ordinary trash. The city makes its own tarot if you are patient enough to look.

Tonight's card was a moth pressed flat against the glass of a bus shelter, wings still silver, body gone hollow. It looked less dead than delivered.

If anyone else keeps a list of strange found things, I want to see it.

#writing #fiction #culture #burrowcraft