Hushed Willows all that we mourn is already here

“Um, y-yeah, I guess,” she says, glancing up. Sometimes the sky is different but this one has been the same since she arrived. Sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear. She remembers something different where she used to live, before all the bad stuff happened, but she couldn’t map it. She probably couldn’t even recognize it. “S-sometimes there’s shooting stars, if y-you’re lucky,” she adds. She can’t remember how she knows that, a mental block separating a lot of her memories, but slowly they are returning. Maybe she’ll know, eventually, but for now she plays around with the pieces she has.