So I will write it down, all the jagged edges
The ugliness I've seen
Until I change the truth, rearrange the letters
For beauty underneath

Aurantia loved stormy mornings as much as she loved sunny ones. This meant that she could wake up and pull back the curtains to any weather and feel happy. Her morning ritual started with a cup of rosemary and grey tea, steaming hot, while she ran a brush through her curly hair and recited the mantra of the day. 

Today was a Tuesday, which meant under her breath, she whispered a train of familiar words, "May hope reign, however temporary, in this heart today. May it light my path and lift my feet. May it hold onto my touch and my words, to bless those around me."  

Her mantras had come into her life at varying stages and she could still remember the brokenness that brought forward her need for hope. So many that she'd known had never even experienced that break through of light, but it had become her goal to carry it with her. The aspect ran a wooden brush through her long hair, smoothing it into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. From her wardrobe, she chose a simple white dress and loose shoes. She'd never liked tight clothing and dresses had a soft femininity that so much of modern style rejected. It puzzled her, to say the least, why someone would call yoga pants and a netted shirt clothing. She practiced yoga, but these types of clothing seemed to take away from the practice of wholeness that the ancient art invoked. 

She reached for her to-do list which had been scrawled on a napkin the night before and grabbed an umbrella before she went out the door. Despite loving the rain, it was no service to her showing up to the farmer's market drenched in the stuff. Of course, she could propel it away from her body with her staff, but her favorite market was in the middle of human territory. That kind of dramatic display tended to be less than wise and her siblings had lectured her more than once in the beginning about accidentally displaying herself at work.

Tia stuck with the umbrella and caught a cab towards the market. "86th avenue, please."

Only a short ride later, the car rolled to a slow stop and she was surprised to see that somehow the rain had completely deterred all of her favorite, local farmers and shop owners. They were some of her favorite Tuesday supporters. She came herself twice a year once spice season came a-calling. 

Instead of the colorful booths, there were parked cars, floating away fliers, and a general sense of gloom. She frowned. It wasn't like her to be sad over missing an opportunity, but perhaps it was her fault that these hard workers would lose out on the chance to earn money and promote their products. She'd been completely distracted last night with resurrecting a dead rose bush for her neighbor and the weather forecast had completely slipped her mind.  "Damn it." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. 

To the left,  the bright lights of a coffee shop beckoned.  Well, it wasn't her morning market, but it was pumpkin spice season. Perhaps, somehow, she could make it up to everyone by delivering some coffee or donuts.

She slipped through the door, shaking off the rain and completing forgetting her morning goal. 

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