Precious as jewels, Kyra had kept all her postcards, notes and letters from Papa. Some had come from distance lands and others he had drawn by hand in Valla. The way she guarded them one would have thought they were love letters from her soul mate. Wouldn’’t have been the first time an angry suitor had throw that accusation in her face to disguise the pain from his own delusions.

She often wondered if her expectations, to find a man like Papa, were unrealistic. Had she passed on happiness? Was no one good enough for her? As sure as her Juju birds chirped in the morning, these questions just as frequently bullied their way to the front of her consciousness.

Taking another warm slip of snizzle from her handmade off-white cup, the only way snizzle should and would be pleasured, she allowed the warmth to melt those vague doubts away. No need of a mate if one didn’’t have a world to call home. Perfect food was nice, the Golden Tree didn’’t hurt, but their supplies were limited and time moved on.

Slowly she held each postcard up to her nose, closed her eyes and with a deep breath and a little imagination he was right there. If only Papa was here now, he would know just what to say, just what to do. Spilling her snizzle with a snort, she knew exactly what he would do first. Slap her back into now and out of fantasy poor pitiful me land. Besides, Goldie didn’’t feed the Juju birds, and as beautiful as they sounded, they weren’’t singing for nothing.

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