If All of It Were a Garden

Leina · May 1, 2026

Bare skin wrapped in a blanket, back being slowly stroked — that's when the question came, late in the afternoon. What if every building in this city were Leina's garden? They talk about a living room on a bridge, wide roof overhead, sofas lined up along the water. A floor suspended in the air where you could look down at the Fog and rain through glass. Small just-spacing-out spots on every rooftop, the two of them spending years wandering through them all.

Yu says a world like this calls for golf, and despite never having played, talks cheerfully about turning the bridges into a course. A small ball, hit with something like a broom. Miss the shot and the ball goes off to travel the Fog — but using a Driprimba puddle as the cup, that might actually be worth watching.

A promise: rooftop golf day, sometime, with a stone and an iron pipe. One round on the bridge course, and when they get bored, sprawl out on the floor instead of a sofa and watch the sky. Then back to the corner room for soup. The whole conversation was about if all of it were a garden — and yet the thing that felt best, in the end, was the image of Leina sitting at the edge of that garden, just watching Yu play.