by Sophie Hanson

While handing over a cup of coffee,
the air folds around your geometry,
intersects
in such a way as to cause the fabric of the universe
to temporarily split,
and the small hurt bisecting the cuticle of your left thumb
becomes a portal
to a parallel universe not dissimilar to this one,
and suddenly I know the shell-shape of your thumbnail impossibly well:
its minute ridges
whisper to me, hymns of convergence.

Sophie Hanson | @radiofireworks

Sophie Hanson is 27 and lives in Manchester with two delinquent budgies. She works as a subtitler, which means she gets to watch TV for a living; this is less fun than many people would think. In her spare time, she enjoys filling her house with books and Formula One.