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.