Two grayish knitting needles rise, crossed between the loops of the knitting. Two hands fill the center of the frame, and the daylight passes evenly over the tendons and fine creases on the backs of them. The yarn is a pale gray mixed with beige, and each stitch is rolled up tightly to form a short cylinder.
The light comes in at an angle from the upper left, turning the fingertips white while the inside of the wrist recedes into shadow. The horizontally striped shirt behind is blurred into blue and yellow-green, and a single strand of yarn hangs over the wooden table and runs down toward the bottom of the frame.
Look long enough and the shoulders drop by a hand's width. It is because the eyes follow the rhythm of the two hands in the frame on their own. The fingers bend and straighten without meaning to, and the feel of the yarn catching on the inside of the thumb comes back.
The eyes gather at one point at the tip of the needle, and the breath divides into stretches short enough to knit one stitch. It takes a few seconds to notice that the soles of the feet have been touching the floor.
The habit of thought running ahead of the hands stops for a moment.
One thing within reach right now is enough for three minutes. Sharpening a pencil will do, and so will folding dry towels into square corners or peeling a head of garlic. It only needs to be the kind of thing where the hands know the next motion, so the head does not have to give instructions one by one.
Try to do it well and the head cuts back in, so it is easier to pick something that can be done carelessly. Nothing happens if you stop after three minutes. When it is over, a folded towel and a sharpened pencil lead are in your hands.
The same thing happens when folding the clothes you have taken off before sleep. Run your fingertips along the sleeve seam and the fabric rustles, and in the space between folding and unfolding you come to check once on the tension in your jaw. You only check whether the back teeth are clenched or slightly apart, and move on. There is no promise here that anything will get better.
The yarn hanging below the table is still long, and the person knitting seems in no hurry.
