Kinaiya, Kinaila

There's a bridge in San Perdida no one crosses.
Not at dusk.
Not alone.
Not if they know what's good for them.

The town is quiet - too quiet.
The river runs deep - too deep.
And the air hangs heavy with names no one speaks out loud.

Kaira Delphine Villarreal walks like she doesn't care who's watching.
Silas Eustaquio Manlapaz listens like he's afraid he might hear something back.
Neither of them are looking for anything.
But something finds them anyway.

The town shifts.
The bridge waits.
And the river, as always, remembers.