Her name is Hina

There is an old lady who calls to the ocean. She puts up her hands and it speaks to her. Her hair is silver. She’s been here for so long, but you could never tell how old she was. Her face is so smooth like a stone that has washed up on shore. Like one…

Footsteps in the snow

The leaf on the stairs was a gift from a friend. Shadows turned sideways when I walked into your being. It was cold out — much more than I am accostomed to since I’m from more temperate climates. You didn’t think it was anything to have a girl looking through the window. It wasn’t big…