Here is a story I wrote in 2018. It was based on a different image than what I use, but I don't know where the original came from and thus can't source permission. Pricks and Patches Aurora watched as a tiny bead of bright red blood bloomed on her finger for a moment before she delicately put her finger to her lips, kissing the metallic drop away. She knew she should be paying more attention to her task, but her thoughts kept fading. This is not how she had pictured spending the day before her sixteenth birthday, even though it had been at her own behest. When she’d said she’d mend the shirt, her father had stared at her with tired, red eyes, and told her it didn’t matter. “Things fall apart,” he said and a long silence fell between them. The shirt she was mending had begun to fray long ago. Its cuffs were uneven and little holes and tears appeared here and there. But it had been beloved by her grandfather, all of its failings showed that. Even though the shirt would hardly be ...