She asked the promising ones whether or not they would like to see her dragons, nodded quietly when they laughed, never told anyone her age and took the screens out of her windows, just in case.
He enjoys old things: books with rusted covers and finger-stained pages, a typewriter that smells of dust and archives. Sometimes, he listens to the star’s conversations, and he is not afraid of death, in fact, he is one of the few who remembers.
It lived on the roof. We didn’t quite know what it was, other than a furry shadow thing that jumped at small noises. It would hiss at us in the early morning, outside our windows or perched on the chimney and when we were gone, it would steal yarn from my mother’s basket.