so says the straw hat

The old woman held her tongue. A heavy golden key rested there, sunken weights. Her mouth was filled with ocean water-- every tooth was a pearl.

We all worked diligently to take the time-bomb apart nimble fingers picking at coils and bolts. Tracey wore a red bandanna and kept on humming some sweet and melancholy tune so that when we got to the feathers we knew it was only a matter of minutes, merely a matter of minutes. Our fingers grew sore extracting those sand-piper organs, so delicate and small. Who knew there would be so many tucked between the plastic-coated wire mazes? Hidden heartstrings and capillaries. In that moment we were all surgeons-- even Tracey held quiet her tune.