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She slammed the book shut. But it was too late. The word had already nested behind her eyes. She could feel it now, a soft, grey membrane growing over her memories. She tried to remember her mother’s face. A flicker. She tried to recall her own name. A haze.

Elara was a librarian, a woman who believed the world was divided into things that were catalogued and things that were lost. Afilmywa was trying very hard not to be lost. afilmywa

A child in the park drew it in the dirt with a stick. When I asked what it meant, she put a finger to her lips and ran away. She slammed the book shut