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Pillow propped, and books in hand,
Idleness sweet, a moment grand.
Before the door, rain's gentle gleam,
A soaked view paints a tranquil dream.
The weather grew colder still. The Daoist lit the fire in the small stove, bringing his hands closer to warm them. He rubbed them together, then exhaled softly over his fingers before picking up a book beside him.
Suddenly, the door creaked, and a small girl slipped in. She hunched her shoulders and lowered her head, her twin buns puffed and round, with enough hair to rival a full ponytail. The rain had left countless tiny droplets clinging to her hair, glimmering like white pearls. In her hands, she clutched two steamed buns, her expression as serious as could be as she handed them to the Daoist.
“Eat these!” she declared.
“You always have to go buy breakfast for me. How can that be right?” The Daoist put down his book and accepted the buns, glancing at the droplets clinging to her hair. “And it’s still raining outside.”
“Thank me.”
“Thank you, Lady Calico.”
“You’re welcome.”
The little girl sat down beside him and raised her hands to pat her forehead a few times. With casual ease, she brushed off all the water droplets. Then, as though it were nothing at all, she said, “It’s just rain.”
“You’re not eating?”
“I already ate last...
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