sketch

She’s wearing Yuri’s jacket, but on her it drags along the ground. She’s young, has a lanky build like so many on the edge of adulthood. There’s a silence about her. When she walks you can see she’s barefoot despite the cold. Her feet are cracked and broken. She stretches her toes, digging them into the loamy soil. Her face is dirty, as are her hands. Fingers long, nails chipped. She stares through people, doesn’t register their concern. Voice is soft, controlled. Discovers things like they were new. Doesn’t smile often, but there’s little to smile about out there, in the taiga. Despite the bitter stillness of the day, her skin is tanned, almost brown.

She wants to find her father. She needs to. She doesn’t know what will happen when she meets him. But it will be the beginning, and an ending.

[…getting this out of my head in embryonic form, just to pin it down in some shape – please carry on about your business…]

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