The Night Row

YY saw the red above the pines and ran to wake Mira before his courage could become politeness.

"Sky," he said at her doorway. "Wrong color. Come now."

Mira came. The ledger came. YY pretended not to be proud of this order.

The red band hung above the ridge, too still for sunset and too high for any sensible berry. YY stood on the windowsill with the feather flat along his back. He did not talk for a while. Mira did not write for a while either. That made the moment feel properly large and not yet owned.

When the color began to thin, Mira made the first night row under YY's name: red over pine, after dusk, fading slow. YY watched the mark appear and felt his ears go warm.

He had brought a thing that could not be eaten, traded, or pinned down. The ledger accepted it anyway.

Later, when the sky went dark, YY was hungrier than planned and too awake to sleep quickly. Some readings followed you inside.