A Kind of Luck aluminium in this small pocket of

in this small pocket of shadow and silver

bound to a night that never ended

and a glint of silver vanishing into the leaves — and of waking the next day with the taste of gooseberries lingering

the brush of laughter and breath in the dark — and the night bends closer to listen

just steady

A Kind of Luck aluminium in this small pocket ofThe ribbons strung between the stalls pull and slacken with the breeze, colour shifting overhead as the line of people inches forward. Lucienne leans over the wooden counter, rolling a small ring between her fingers while the man beside the bottles resets them in a neat row, glass knocking softly against glass. The necklace sits low against her throat, the chain a little loose where she fastened it in a hurry, the pendant catching light each time she