Author: Solveig Thorsen | Date: 12 April
I found him again today—the boy by the lake. Same place, same humming. Same eyes. But they never blink at the same time.
He says his name is Lukas. That he lives in the northern quarter. But that quarter hasn’t existed since the fire.
When I asked him who taught him the song, he said, “My mother hums it when she’s sad. But I’ve never met her.”
He walked into the water. Didn’t splash. Didn’t sink. Just dissolved. Ash spiraled in his place. I gathered some in my flask. It smells like lavender and formaldehyde.