chaiNboli

 A sparrow welcomes sunlight after a storm with the innocence of a girl who lives because she has to. She murders winter, strangling it inside her sweater, scratches labels of grief till the glue forgets its name. She learns how to fold silence into usable shapes, keeps her breath economical, like matches saved for power cuts. The world offers omens, she eats around them. Rain dries itself on her shoulders. Memory behaves. Hunger becomes a habit. She smiles at a dead crow, not in cruelty, but recognition. Some things finish early and still teach you how to stand.