Zahrah the Windseeker

Clingstone’s gaze turned inward, and more gently she said, “It never occurs to people that maybe I’d like to be the reckless one. The disrupter! As the years have passed, I have discovered in myself this . . . energy. Is it anger? A touch of spite? I’m not sure.” She looked back toward the restaurant. The beans on their strings were rippling on a b

who sprang up from the ground itself with gnarled hands and woody skin and roots deep enough to tap into her own hidden well.

Mom opened a notebook in her hand and started reading aloud. “Only the moon never sleeps. From the window, it peers in on my heart.” Crap, she was reading from Book of My Poems! I lunged at her in mute fury. Dammit, I’d kept that hidden in my desk drawer. “Give it back!” “No. Unless you want me to make copies and share them with your friends, off y