This thing we do

She looked down at the jumbled mess at her feet. She had picked up bits of it along the path. There was a great long section she had found at a coffee shop of all places . One particularly dark and tangled section she had found at the bus stop. she had only just sat down to catch her breath when the young couple had come up having a rather heated argument about someone named Henry, and the awful way he played the bass.
She took each little section and began to unwind and rework it She would sometime seem to make progress but then come to a stopping point and have to go back and try again. Her brow furrowed studying the whole, like a sculptor looking for an angel in a stone. This twisting and untangling of things. Like a master craftsman, tending her loom. Tying each section just so until the masterpiece was revealed. The bits of things shaped and worked and reworked until the story was finally complete.