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Summary
“Hey,” the person hisses, right next to her ear. “Lærke. It’s me.”
Lærke looks up, slowly, blearily. The voice is sweeter than she imagined; untouched, unstrained, not like hers is from days out in the sand and the shore.
“Ilse,” Lærke croaks.
(in which lærke and ilse find themselves entangled over and over in different timelines of the universe, whether in a brush of the shoulders or a damning head-on collision that threatens to ruin them both; as if the way they look at each other is the soul or the axiom that drives all of existence.)