Sora
written by the Vulpecula

Some days, I could almost believe she reflected the sky.

On sunny days she was cheerful, bright like the sun itself. Radiant. Beautiful.

On rainy days she was sad and distant, her eyes drained of all emotion, as if the clouds had drifted down and placed themselves there. Still beautiful. Just beautifully melancholy.

She always seems perplexed over the name I've given her. “Why do you call me Sora?” she'll snap at me in exasperation. I never answer her, but I know the answer perfectly well.

“Because you're my Sora. My Sora, my sky, my everything.”