I’m fasting, not starving. Fasting to make my family whole. I met a rogue once, Cherry, who fasted for the last moon of every leafbare, back when she had a family. Cherry thought the earth was dry of home. She hated drought but never searched for rain. In this sea of white snow I fall back on color. On memories. On Cherry’s sky blue eyes, she was idyllic greenleafs and burning sunsets. Cherry wanted a home and I thought her home was with me, I could be her family but she said no. Cherry wasn’t even her real name.