## The Weight of Lilacs The desert wind tasted like sand and regret. Elias traced the lines on his calloused hand, watching dust devils dance across the cracked earth of Redemption Gulch. It was a town clinging to existence, its…
## Roots & Rhythms The dust swirled, a rusty ochre cloud mimicking the sunset bleeding across Yosemite’s granite face. Amelia clutched her worn leather satchel, squinting against the grit as she surveyed the skeletal frame of what would soon be…
## The Static Between Fields The chipped ceramic mug warmed Lena’s palms. Steam, smelling of cinnamon and regret, blurred the view of Blackpink Meadow stretching beyond her porch. Not pink, exactly. More a bruised lavender where the morning mist hadn’t…