Duck Lake and we'd break under the weight of any pain that ever came in this life

she lengthens her stride to draw alongside the other, laughing at the assumption. some of my family might disagree with you, tashkent shot back, glancing over toward the russet woman. i am more inclined to agree. in any case, when i am wrong, i try to make it right. i hope you have not taken offense to my presence, she adds, her face falling into solemn sympathy.

there is something about the woman that is inexplicably fascinating. perhaps it is the set of her shoulders--a fighter, though her stature might suggest otherwise. or the depth of her eyes. she has seen a lot, tashkent thinks. good and bad, the latter more prevalent.

tashkent has seen a lot, too, but mostly good. her life has been largely free of emotional strife (or perhaps she lets the bad roll off her back like spring rain). those who have struggled, those whose hearts have been stolen from them and returned with pieces missing. . .those were the souls tashkent was drawn to. for better, for worse.