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Tidying up Loose Ends


I dug into Providence's clutch — pricking my finger, as she joked about some wives’ tale, slicing my hand open on her scissors as I attempted to pull them out. The familiar weight of the blades in my hands— lethal in the wrong ones.

Seventeen years to realize the only string left was a connection I didn’t need then or now. A string I’d kept as a reminder of a time come and gone — a…



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Niki Madore

An avid reader, poet, deep thinker, skier, and occasional skydiver. Always encouraging others to begin their journey to live authentically.