The blood red of my kimono swam into the wind, begging to play with the leaves. Turning the page of the tattered book on my lap, I heard the creak of floorboards. I was up and walking to the door by the time she knocked.

"Lainie." It was a whisper that had made it's way up my throat.
She turned, stepped inside, "Hello, Beatrice." She ran over the room with her eyes, shook her head in disapproval.