The Gold in Her Hands

<p><strong>Prologue</strong></p><p>Before the dawn breaks before the world demands anything from</p><p>her she sits in the gentle silence of early morning. In that fragile</p><p>space between exhaustion and resolve her hands rest - gathering</p><p>strength gathering breath. Memories drift past: late nights spent</p><p>patching hope together mornings fueled by bitter coffee and</p><p>stubborn grit.</p>