Day 308. The girl wished for one thing: the grace to transform.

Day 307. It’s a day for navel-gazing, her friend whispers into the phone. How long have you been vegan?

Day 306. I wish we’d met sooner, the girl said. I did not speak with you this entire time. The woman shrugged, dipping her bites of tofu in a bit of salt.

Day 304. Flowers in disarray; she had not washed her hair in days.

Day 304. The final days stretched out like the markings on a pregnant woman's belly. Skin taunt, navel wider than Aslan's country.

Day 303. She finished her tea and set the paper cup in the file of ashes. It would be burned at dusk with the other paper stuffs tossed in the circle.

Day 302. Glittering and utterly riotous, the girl wiped the tears from her eyes.

Day 301. Is it selfish to love like this? To hold someone captive? Is it love or something else?

Day 300. I came without wrapping paper, and I will depart as a simple note, the clatter of coins tossed down the well.  

Day 299. Nocturnal Goddess, breath of fire. The girl mimicked those she admired. 

Day 298. The blue ring on the old woman’s finger was removed, placed on a chain where it hung from the girl's neck.

Day 297. Growing up is the process of selecting what to keep and what to give away.

Day 296. It smiles from the centre of its glittery wheel; now you understand what it is to pray.