goodbye to the awful kitchen track lights,

that burn through bulbs,

and brightened my tears when I said my name,

for the first time aloud.

goodbye to the unused bulletin board,

leaned on a basement wall,

it held love letters of our younger selves,

it won't move house again.

goodbye to the mosquitoes of summer,

who stung on porch nights,

barely noticed while voices bore out souls,

in starts of deep friendship.

goodbye to the corner with the worst light,

in the living room,

where she learned how to be alive again,

without her mother's smile.

goodbye to the paper bag of old gloves,

lost in the garage,

filled with small and smaller mismatched mittens,

that shaped people from snow.

Oh my next Blades in the Dark game will 💯 occur in Ilmar. This is a world just begging to chew up and spit out some characters, and that city is especially perfect for it.