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... ng.

Margo woke from sleep, her face against the chill of the pillow, her breathing shallow and slow. Beyond her window, the night breathed — it sighed through the trees as though it had lungs. Shadows crept across the moonlight, inching slowly along the walls like things with too many legs.

Tap... tap... tap...

She was awake.

Tap... tap... tap...

She spun round slowly. Her window — misty, quivering infinitesimally — carried the imprint of a hand slapped ag ...

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* Ping’an means peace

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