INTERMISSION: Programme (Stolen)

by: bea sophia published: 03/07/2026 A rectangle of paper thicker than it needs to be.

Ink listing names that have outlived their hands.

You keep it like contraband, like a receipt that proves you once sat close enough to misunderstand proximity.

The paper holds nothing of them except the pressure of their absence where it lay for ninety minutes warming to their body.

You have been faithful to an object that never agreed to be sacred.