A Specimen in the Window

The quiet rooms at home had yielded their secrets for the morning, so I slipped out to see the city. Walking past the storefronts along Cuba Street, a tall glass display case sheltered beneath a dark awning drew my steps to a halt. Sheltered from the pavement bustle, a framed taxidermy display leaned near the threshold. Inside the aged wooden frame, pinned upon yellowed parchment, rested a dried cicada shell beside a cluster of obsidian beads. I placed my palm against the cool exterior glass, measuring the delicate symmetry of its brittle amber wings with a long, steady gaze. Even beyond quiet hearths, preserving stillness seems to be a common craft.