In-Between Alphabet: B is for But

But interrupts, determined to have its say, determined that its opinion is right even if it’s the opposite in every way.  Its contradictory nature grabs the head of the conversation and swings it round, sinews twisting and tendons cracking.

“But,” she taps her fingers against her chin.  “But,” her lips curve in a smile, the kind that twitches right at the corners, and golden motes of dust float in the dreary dark darkness, sticking to each particle of each pitch-black note.  She’s a magician, her power distilled into the one word that transforms his world, morphing and transforming the weak-willed despair swirling around him into gleaming shards of metal.  The metal fits to him, clamps tightly to his body as armor, and he’s reminded of those cartoon characters he used to watch early Saturday mornings when he was still young enough to believe everything he saw on television.  “But,” and, instead of a self-inflicted villain, he is now a hero ready to face the future.