Reflections: The Bullet and the Book

There’s something about a bullet and a book sitting side by side that always stops me. Maybe it’s the contrast. One built for release. The other for return.

I found a .308 round once inside a paperback copy of Hemingway. Wedged between pages like a bookmark. And in a way, it was. Whoever put it there was marking more than a place. They were leaving a moment — maybe a memory — they couldn’t finish just yet.

---

The Things We Carry

We talk about the weight of bullets. We rarely talk about the weight of stories. But they’re not so different. Both are shaped with intention. Both travel through time. And both leave a mark.

I don’t know who hid that bullet in that book. But I know why they did. Because sometimes we need a place to set our story down — even if just for a while. Even if just to return later and pick it up again.

---

Some Marks Are Meant to Stay

The bullet never fired. The book never finished. But together, they told a truth I didn’t expect to find on that shelf: that what we make and what we remember aren’t separate. They’re joined. Bound by powder or paper. Lined with lead or prose. But always, always meant to be held.

This is what Reflections is for. The marks that stay — and the reasons they matter.