Thresholds
A scene becomes a hinge, and the silence at the edge of it becomes a language you learn slowly — one pause at a time.
Orbits
You leave a sky city to find the weight of a ruined Earth — and the feather-light truth you carried all along.
Highways
Between gas stations and ghost towns, rumor travels faster than regret. The only map is the one you draw as you go.
“The road was a long narrow photograph and every mile we passed became a story we would retell incorrectly.”