had only seven fingers.
i muffled my shriek in the market.
i saw the three stubs and he told me about the industrial accident that maimed him.
he was working cheerfully, matter-of-factly on a fine motor task that certainly requires 10/10 when he had only 7.
i stood still for a while. taking in his reality. he had moved on – a morning of activity near the beans, and the cauliflowers.
i met him at 9 am, and it usually takes me five minutes to compose a tiny post like this one.
i have backspaced about 345 words and made four drafts. and it’s almost 9 p.m.
i think the feeling i am having as i replay this morning’s sight is ‘respect’ — to have met a superhero who filled the blanks of living with three fingers less, with his dignity.