The Teller of Small Fortunes

by Julie Leong

Tao saw the tightness in his shoulders subside just a little as they went on. Patches of new grass sprouted hopefully from the sodden ground, and small green buds poked out here and there on otherwise bare branches. It seemed that spring would come early this year. Tao couldn’t help feeling her spirits lift as they traveled;

Grasping the strip tightly in its paws and gnawing at the fishy prize like the carnivorous predator it was, the cat permitted itself to be stroked.

“This set belonged to my father.” Tao was proud of how steady her voice was.

Here in this big house full of servants and heavy-soled shoes and dark curtains, there was no birdsong, no sounds of running water. Shinn words would have sounded out of place.

“There is something liberating about traveling, isn’t there?” said Kina. “I’ve felt it since we left Shellport—only knowing where we’re going next, but not where we’ll end. The open road ahead of you—it’s a little scary, and a little wonderful.”

Tao let out one long, shuddering breath, and it was as if something dark and poisonous within her had been lanced; the pain that she had slowly numbed herself to over so many years poured back in even as it flowed out

there was suddenly a certain improper swishiness to her kirtle, which meant that parts of her—interesting parts—jiggled slightly more than he had previously observed.