Starglow Basin Ash Tray

saya moved with slow, deliberate grace, her form adorned with the faint scent of dried herbs, masking both her pain and the countless miles she’d traveled. her golden hair, falling soft as spun silk, brushed at her thighs with each step, as if a gentle reminder of her own delicate resilience. she found the white woman—unknowing of her name, a figure both striking and out of place, gleaming like a pearl cast in the grays of verapaz.

ay, she spoke, her voice low and soft, holding a solemn edge. i am saya.

she paused, her gaze tracing the carefully maintained coat, pristine as freshly fallen snow, unmarred and pristine. a faint, almost knowing smile touched her lips. we are two of a kind, maybe, she murmured, letting the words linger in the air. i find myself here, too, unsure if this place will polish me… or wear me down.