For K
A young woman was combing through the grass with her fingers or rather that’s what it looked like. Her grandfather, seeing her out the window, thought to himself, she must be thinking about something BIG. He knew, because he, while thinking about all the questions that come naturally to an old man near the END, would himself run his fingers over the page on which he was writing as if to discover some secret he had been missing. He decided to go outside to be with her. She hardly noticed he was there, so he just straight out asked her if she was looking for something. And she, as if talking to herself, answered, “Something’s missing.” Her grandfather, who wanted to be helpful, asked if she was sure she was looking in the right place. Her reply surprised him: “It’s not here, but it’s only out here in the light of day that I can even think about it.” The old man thought he understood and began running his scarred old fingers through the grass He was thinking of her, her young life in summer and winter, and then, for the first time, she looked up at him and smiled. Somehow each had found something.