October 2--Ogata Korin, Eight Bridges. The dark purple irises were in bloom as Mica crossed the last bridge. She had walked the three miles from the train station in the village where her parents had lived and died. She stood on the wooden planks, shifting from foot to foot, not sure she wanted to step off, not sure if she was ready to faced the empty house and ruined fields that were all that remained of where she'd grown up. She felt the vibrations of the footsteps before she head the voices approach from behind. The first villagers that past her only glanced at her out of the corner of their eyes as they made their way by. Not until Cana and Abilene came did anyone speak to her. "Standing right smack dab in the way," said Cana, never one to be direct. Abilene didn't have time to waste getting her point across. "Mica girl, don't you think you could let these tired people pass?" It's good to be home, she thought.
Okay, that's it. I'm going to go sew. See ya.