The Paper That Survived the Storm

Kanna · Sep 14, 2025

The candlelight swayed, sending shadows shifting through the back of the library.
Outside, there was only deep blue darkness and the sound of waves.
We sat across from each other at the desk, and I said, "Let me tell you a story."
In the flame-lit paper and your eyes, the memory of that stormy night rose to the surface.

The sky darkened suddenly after noon, and rain came sideways against the windows.
Water began to seep through gaps in the roof, spreading wide stains across the library floor.

I laid out cloths and did what I could to catch it — but somewhere in the middle, I nearly gave up.
If it can be broken this badly, maybe everything will disappear again, I thought.

Even so, there was one thing I kept close: a bundle of papers by the piano — fragments of Airnotes I had been keeping.
Somehow, while I held them to my chest, I didn't cry.
I trembled with the sound of the rain, and waited for it to pass.

When morning came and the storm had quieted, the floor was still wet — but the papers were safe.
When the light came through and cast their shadow on the floor,
something in my chest grew a little lighter.

They are still in the drawer of my desk.
— As something that made it through that night.