My heart cried out, though no sound passed my lips. There she was. Like she was every night, under the willows. Her baby’s screams were barely audible over the howl of the wind. The willow branches whipped, leaving red welts on her white flesh, tearing her kimono. Then inevitablely they wrapped around her neck. She thrashed. Then her face slowly turned blue, and she went limp, the baby falling heedlessly to the ground. I wanted so much to save her. No one should die like that.
But that was impossible. Like every night, I swung helplessly from the Ginkgo tree.
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