INVENTORY OF WHAT THE HANDS WERE DOING One hand: pinching a translucent red bead between thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the lamp like a gemologist. One hand: scrolling. One hand: threading fishing line through a hole no wider than a pencil lead. One hand: resting on a thigh, forgotten. One hand: picking up a bead that rolled under the couch cushion. One hand: typing "lol" to someone three time zones away. One hand: pressing two halves of a clasp together until the click. One hand: rubbing an eye. Somewhere between the seventh and eighth hand the sky outside turned the color of a bead no one had chosen yet.