My halo got broken. I've no idea when or how it happened – but it certainly got broken. Low ceilings, tenacious tree branches, wicked birds? I really don't know. What I do know is that about two days ago I looked into the mirror and saw my own reflection blemished by an evil crack that pierced my halo all the way through. Imagine a broken hoop, only a small one.
Of course, I was determined to mend it. For some hours I toyed with an idea to use glue or friction tape. I even thought about painting over that ugly witch's smile of a crack. But some restlessness inside strongly advised me against it. God I had many ideas, but none of them seemed to go anywhere. So I decided to drop it.
No, of course not the halo (what an idea). I mean my initial determination to do anything about it. So now I’m walking with a crack – which, come to think, is perfectly fine. You won’t notice. Particularly since the halo is invisible. Nor is the crack, obviously.
And now that I think of it, who knows, you might have one too. I don’t know. You might. But getting back to me for a second: was it an awkward doorway, a sudden sunstroke? We won’t know. We won’t see. And after all, crack or not – it’s the halo that counts.
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