By Ben Greenman
from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled
In another room of the same party, mingling among acknowledged masters of the artistic, financial, and political realms stands an unknown, a brilliant young individual capable of remarks that reveal themselves over time to be staking out deep moral positions, and of the belief that time itself is a pane always sliding into position and thus always at risk of shattering into an infinity of glass pebbles. She has to this date been identified as the daughter of a celebrated couple but within the year she is sure to emerge on her own terms. For now, though, she remains uncertain of her gifts, and spends most of her time shuttling between the buffet table and the window by the patio, reviewing the lessons of her fourteen years, tentatively advantaging a hand upward whenever she thinks she sees someone she knows, all the while softly humming melodies of her own invention.
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