He grows tired of remembering her nagging and he lies on a nearby bench, so he can fall asleep and be away from her voice. After, there are no outside forces or swiveling mystery. Sometime during the night when his body tried to rid itself of the alcohol in his stomach, he choked on his own vomit, of all stupid ways to bring on eternal earthly decay.
When Aoku wakes up, he is alone. There are no moving mounds under his skin, and the fall breeze is a gentle, cooling caress around him. Up above him, still, birds. He can’t tell if another year has passed, let alone if his death this time was an annual occurrence or the remembrance of one.
He wraps his arms around himself and makes himself comfortable on the bump of his grave. There, he waits for the last cloud of starlings to leave Sujing, wishing he had more time; wishing for real stars.
© Copyright 2019 Grace Yang
Grace Yang - [BCS288 S02] - Under Their Wings, These Starving Ghosts (html) Page 2