Three-hundred and thirty-five years had passed since the end of the war, and Nayoko thought she caught a familiar face in the crowd of festival-goers.
Her hair was longer than she remembered, with a crown of wildflowers tucked behind her ears like a halo encasing that strawberry blonde. Her dress was long and flowing, and she looked ethereal as she weaved through the crowd and smiled at the children.
Part of her wanted to march up to her and demand something from her. Anything. How she could have let her own grief ruin the lives of others. How she had ruined Nayoko's own chance at a happy ending. For a second, Nayoko wanted her to suffer just as much as she had suffered, so she could understand the pain.
The other part of her whispered that perhaps she already knew what that pain felt like.
As Nayoko turned and walked away, she briefly wondered what her name was, now.
YOU ARE READING
where you go i go
Short Storyas the world ages around nayoko, she comes to terms with her friends' mortality and her lack thereof. a tale of loss, grief, pain, and the joy of loving warnings: war//ptsd//some descriptions of blood//mentions of self harm//death
