Sera stilled.
Her eyes slowly lifted from the cup in her hands to the woman’s face.
The elder didn’t look at her.
She didn’t need to.
Her hands moved on their own now, stirring the pot with a kind of muscle memory, her gaze drifting off..away from the present.
“She had hair the color of old wine,” she said. “Dark, with these red strands that caught in the sun. Her laugh was the kind that made people stop what they were doing, just to listen.
“She’d sneak sugar cubes when she thought I wasn’t looking. Always barefoot. Always wild.”
Her lips lifted. A ghost of a smile. Fragile..
“She was bold,” the woman continued, slower now. “Too bold. Too beautiful. Too curious.”
Sera didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
But something in her chest cracked open.
Because that girl…that daughter…sounded
