While moving out I caught my hand on a box and split the skin right across my heart line.
The blood settled into the grooves of my palm in a perfect little star.
Sharp. Bright. Impossible to ignore.
Two days earlier I’d asked the cards what I needed to hear.
I pulled The Star.
A card that arrives after the dust has settled.
The one that says the worst of the storm is behind you.
You’re meant to slow down. Breathe. Reconnect.
Let your own inner compass switch back on.
So I’m standing there with my life half packed, feeling stretched thin, and my hand is literally marking me with the same symbol.
A star on the heart line.
Hope sewn straight into the body.
