The Six of Cups Tucked Into a Book

I thought of myself not as pulling strings, but just as one clearing a path so that the obstacles blocking most people's best instincts were lessened. A stone with a hole in it might be left at the edge of the river for the next person mudlarking there. The six of cups tucked into a book and left on the shelf of a little library at just the right moment to fall into just the right hands. One cinder brought home a little orphaned orange kitten and set her in my lap. I knew just the home for her and watched over until she was safe inside. Just people in our little village had no idea I was here, working quietly in the background to