Trebas Mi K'o: Lek

"You look like you're fading into the parchment, Marko," she said one Tuesday, sliding a piece of orange chocolate onto his desk. Marko didn't look up. "I'm fine."

She didn't arrive with a flourish. She was simply there one morning, a new researcher with a laugh that sounded like wind chimes in a storm. She carried a thermos of coffee that smelled of cinnamon and a relentless, stubborn kindness. Trebas mi k'o lek

"You know," he started, looking out at the sea that finally looked blue again. "They say some people are like seasons. They come and go." Elena turned, her eyes searching his. "And what am I?" "You look like you're fading into the parchment,