THE ACCENT OF CLUTCH BAG

The sun sets, tracing a gentle arc between patio and threshold.
Between her fingers, the clutch seals the day with a single motion: a turn of gold, a soft click, and the circle is complete.

She walks toward the garden; each step releases a shimmer of light across the lace while the air slows, as if waiting. Everything that matters rests inside—kept not by the shape that holds it, but by the silence that completes it.

When evening finally settles, the bag lies against her hip like a seal: small, essential, filled with just enough to begin again.