No one saw her enter. No one saw her leave.
She sat alone, dangling her feet off the high stool. Her eyes were ancient. Her voice—when it came—was a whisper carved in stone.
“The stars used to speak to me,” she said.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlMNN3Lc705
“But then they grew tired.”
I served her a drink that I thought had forgotten how to be brewed. Involved dried lullaby petals and rainwater caught in a dream.
She sipped. Giggled once. Then stared at me with unbearable clarity.
“You’re still here,” she said. “That’s good. That means it’s not over yet.”
And then she was gone.
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