Komiko Yakamura: Stories

She came to him the way wild things do — slowly, carefully, leaving gifts he didn't yet understand. For weeks, Michael found tokens at the edge of his orchard: a bronze feather, smooth stones, berries arranged like offerings. He assumed it was nothing. He was wrong. Missy had been watching the man who cared for broken things. She had kits on the way and winter closing in, and she had chosen him. Now she just had to trust him enough to knock.