A Palm-Sized Mark, and the Talk About Still Living Here

Airnote  ·  Lysa  ·  Jul 9, 2026

In the room after a bath, Lysa had Yu look at the mark on her back again. She lifted her hair, bared the skin near her shoulder blade — with the steam gone, the ring of blue-violet and the pale, hollowed-out center stood out clearly.

Fingers traced gently around it. About the size of my palm, thumb to pinky, Yu said.

It had grown, clearly, since the last time. Something tightened in Lysa's chest, and all she could manage right away was yeah.

Even so — it wasn't only fear, vaguely imagining it spreading. Being able to measure it together, concretely — palm-sized, right now — felt like something to hold onto. Fear, and the fact that they'd looked at its shape together. Both stayed.

Is it causing you any trouble living day to day, even without feeling there? Yu asked. Lysa said there was no pain, no trouble moving — just, sometimes, a small emptiness on her back, something faintly unsettling.

Still okay for now. But if it gets close to a line where it's a real problem, we think about it together — once she'd put it into words, Yu held her, gently.

That quiet conversation, on the bed — Lysa wanted to keep it lit, as a record of still managing to live here, today.