This is how it goes. We crack them open all at once, golden crumbs between saucy cartons and waxy bags. Then we read each one aloud, with gusto, before we trade. But not tonight. I don’t want any other glimpse of fate. Someone far away but somehow closer to me than anyone at this table wrote the message I hold for me. A person who on the turn back, just give up, almost cracked open edge, witnessed the staying power of dreams.