She arrived precisely at the half-hour, when the sun is neither young nor old, but suspended in that amber moment between ambition and memory.
Lovers tried to capture her. They bought her hourglasses, pocket watches, sundials. She smiled gently, turned them over, and said, “You can’t keep me. You can only notice me.” timea bella
Her name was a contradiction stitched into silk. Timea —the weight of seconds, the tick of a grandfather clock in a forgotten hallway. Bella —the soft petal of a rose just before it unfurls, the careless laugh of a girl running through a fountain. She arrived precisely at the half-hour, when the