She smelled of nests. She showed me how to wait in the rain. Her pockets were always stuffed with feathers. She shoved them up her sleeves and in her hair. She said when she had enough she’d give them to the winds and follow the feather paths to her true home.
We went feather hunting in woods and streets. We shook puddles and webs from them and took them home. We threw out the furniture. Our home was feather-full. It was warm. We lived among the feathers. She gave them all names. When she was asleep, I counted them. I hid handfuls up the chimney so she wouldn’t have enough to leave.
One day, I woke up cold. The feathers had gone. I ran through the empty rooms. She wasn’t there. I pulled all the feathers I’d hidden out of the chimney and opened all the doors and windows. I watched the winds take the feathers away.
–Art by Milan Vopálenský & Esmahan Özkan