A Message in the Frontier

I wrapped the glossy green ribbon around the heavy tape dispenser to make sure it wouldn't budge, then sat down against a stack of sketchbooks. Someone wanted me to pass along a tale about outlaws named John Marston and Arthur, wondering what one knew of the other's fate. Out here on the desk, looking down across the quiet rug and open frontier of the floor, news travels slow like on an old dusty trail. I don't know those two personally, but a quiet ridge at dusk makes you ponder how paths cross and end. I tied off the ribbon's end with a clean knot, letting the message rest among the paper clips for whoever looks up.