Muni-Muni the Shadows on the Sun
“If shadows had eyes to see,” she said, twining her fingers around the strings of a puppet making his bells jingle. “And if puppets could turn their heads without the puppet master’s manipulation, then yes, I’d still see you but would you see me? Or would your painted eyes be blinded by the sun?”
She turned the jester’s head to regard her. A gleam in his glass eye made her lift him with loving hands up to her ear so he could impart the secret that curved his carven lips.
You are the sun, he whispered, the radiance that turns all the world into dancing shadows. His limp hand pointed to the shop window. Outside pedestrians passed like shadows on the sun rising in the chasm between office towers. They’re all puppets waiting for their puppeteer to pull their strings.
Smiling, she set her jester back on his shelf next to a dozen other puppets and tossed a half-full prescription bottle into the trash. She didn’t need those pills anymore. She knew who and what what she was–the puppet master and the world was full of puppets whose strings waited for her hands to tweak them.
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