Give me a withered flower, and I'll cry for it.
I'll hold it tenderly in my palm,
I'll shield it from the wind, so it won't blow away.
Then I'll reach only a little forward,
Place it gently on the ground.
And if I do,
Will you cry as well?
7. River
A wide, deep, and bitingly cold river runs around the edge of town, its nearest point just fifty steps away from the nearest buildings. I know, because I've counted them before.
Alandi and I would scramble along the banks collecting stones, and later this was where we learned to swim and dive. As soon as we emerged, we would shiver and giggle through chattering teeth, and rub the tiny goosebumps from our arms. My skin would turn to near white, and even my friend's complexion would be pale.
This is where I find Alandi with the coming of first light. She stares at the water, entranced by the way it shifts and flows. The ripples reflect the yellow of the dawn, sparkling as I imagine a song would sparkle if we could ever see the sound of voices.
A twig snaps beneath my feet, and Alandi is startled by the noise. I did not realise that she had failed to hear me until now. But then she turns, face shaded a little against the reflected lights. I see that there are tears in her eyes, and I see that her face is marked with radiating lines of red.