A Colour of Loss

Abstract

I named you Bai, meaning White, because that was the colour of the sky you were born under. A colour of mourning. A colour of loss. The clouds blanketed the sky, only allowing a weak trickle of sunlight through. I squatted on the ground, behind the rice paddies, out of sight of the village that curved around the edge of the fields. My fingers dug into the wet dirt in front of my toes, my thighs strained.