An Empty Hook

You carry the globe out in front of you, slowly, because it swings, and when it swings the flame gutters. The third oak down the path has an iron hook in a low limb. A loop of wire hangs from the hook, turning a little. The loop is closed, and what hung from it is gone.

A card is tacked to the trunk at eye height, lettered in a hand that leans. You hold your globe up to read it.

113 is in San Antonio now. A pecan tree outside somebody's cousin's house. They read the number out loud at dinner. The hook is free.

You pry the loop open with a thumbnail, thread your wire through, and close it. The globe swings out, comes back, and hangs. The tag below it faces the path: 248.