NomaTomi

Nire sat on the small wooden swing. Anna had helped her build this swing when they were little, she had found a stack of old, broken wooden planks in the woods, and together they had secured a small plank with one of fathers spare ropes. Nire can still remember Anna drifting up to the highest visible branch, the skinny rope clutched tightly in her small hands as she flew with determination. Many years had passed since then. Nire stroked the grass with the tip of her shoe, colorful flowers shooting up from the ground wherever she touched. She didn't understand her abilities, or Anna's for that matter, but she enjoyed having them sometimes.