Hanna

Water. I was walking through it. No, on it, my feet covered by choppy, white-capped surf. I could hear her singing in the distance, the same lonely song she always sang.

Who are you? I asked, my voice echoing over the endless horizon, nothing but water for miles and miles.

But there it was, the white building in the distance, the small, barren island rising above the sea. I looked up at the sun and moon, the two sitting next to each other, separated by ...