All these memories like ghosts. Haunting. Knocking on walls in the night.
Poltergeists of the mind.
She shivers and shimmers, crystals sparkling in the light, soflty dim under the blacksness of the sky. Eyes like coal in the dusk, gold trimmed, not black holes, but galaxies.
In a breath, clouds of dust move through the air, settle slowly. Nothing has changed. Paper planes and a sun drenched porch, letters written under an oak.
And all the knocking, pounding and banging of the world.