Winter Issue 2021-2022 by Littera Magazine

artKeiraPlotkin

Littera Magazine 21-22

Lunar

Revel

goes down, the table twists and turns back into the ground and becomes one with the Mothering Tree once again. Laura blushed a bit at everyone. There were centaurs and hobgoblins, nymphs and fairies, tiny bogles and giants, unicorns and sprites, shapeshifters and lots and lots of elves. Beautiful, enchanting elves. They had perfect glimmering skin and twinkling eyes that matched the stars and the wisps that lit up the area. She took in everyone and everything, held onto every bit of information for conversation. Laura had one wish; to fit in in this land she called home. And though she tried her hardest, it didn’t matter; To everyone else, she was just a mortal girl who they would never talk to. It is not that they didn’t want to, or at least that’s was what she always thought. It was just that there was no point in conversing with someone who couldn’t speak back. Laura could make sounds, but that’s all they ever were. There was only one person in the whole world that understood her: Will. Aldren tried cheering her up, saying that even though she had lost the ability to speak, she gained the power to communicate with Will. Her brother was a year older than her and went through everything with her and never left her side. He could understand her in ways no one could explain. He could

byMeghaMadhabhushi • artMeghaMadhabhushi somehow hear her voice in his mind. For the first eight years of Laura’s life, Aldren tried finding a cure for her, but gave up after some time on that hope and focused on understanding how she could mentally transmit words, and why it only worked with Will. Will, like her, was mortal gifted with a form of magic, though his was much different than hers. When they were little, barely walking toddlers, her brother ventured for the first time into the forest. She, of course, was slowly behind him, trying to keep up. By the time anyone found them, Will was unconscious with a magical scar on his forehead and she was happily cuddling next to him. Laura cringed every time someone retold their story. Weeks later, Aldren realized Will’s musical based talent to fill people with certain feelings, no matter how horribly he played. To this date, none of them had a real explanation to what happened, just simply that it did. Will nudged her side. “Remember the rules,” he whispered. She looked up at him, transmitting a loud groan. They looked very similar with the same hazel-blue eyes, and light brown skin tone that didn’t help them blend in or make them stand out. They looked almost identical except for the long scar across his forehead to his defined cheekbones. The only problem was how different they looked from Aldred. He had much lighter, paler skin and neat blonde hair that was never out of place compared to their light brown golden mixed hair and Will’s habit of letting the mop that sat on his head go uncontrolled. “You think I want to come to a party without being able to do anything here,” he retorted. Laura nodded her head and then listed the rules back to him. No saying thank you to anyone. No talking to anyone for too long. Don’t stare deeply into anyone’s eyes. Don’t follow anyone anywhere unless Aldred gives his permission. No eating or drinking anything. Basically don’t do anything until Jack comes and we can sneak out. “Good,” he said, hearing her perfectly. He adjusted his blue tunic and overcoat jacket and started scanning the area for his friend. “I hate how we have to get all dressed up for these Revels,” he complained, tugging at his ascot. At least you can wear pants! I have to wear this payered dress! Laura spun around for a bit of emphasis but

quickly stopped when she felt her dress flying above her knees. Four layers of silk fell back into place against her bare legs bringing back the warm feeling. “Stay out of trouble,” Aldred said as he left the two of them for one of his court associates. They both quickly nodded and walked deeper into the Revel. The King was not here, as usual, which meant everyone was a more relaxed annoying version of themselves. Many people were already drowning themselves in wines and other beverages. There was even a unicorn picking off grapes from the table even though the time to eat had not come here. “Welcome mortals,” an elven male said to them. As far as she knew, Elen was on the King’s Council, but what he actually did, she didn’t know. His bright green eyes studied the two of them, tracing both their outlines. Laura couldn’t stop herself from staring at his own outfit. He looked exactly like a mini elven royalty with his 5 piece red outfit. She quickly blinked her eyes away. She had to stop staring at him for too long. It was one of the rules and she had to follow them. He looked serious, creasing his eyebrows at them as if something was wrong. Laura gulped, trying not to show any fear. “Would either of you like cream cakes? Or a drink?” He asked politely. “No tha-” Will began. Stop! “No,” Will corrected, barely catching himself from finishing his sentence. There was no fear of anyone or anything at Aldred’s manor. They never had to be careful of what they said or what they ate or anything. And, Aldred would have killed them if they didn’t answer with respect and behave properly at home. But here, mortals were susceptible to anything. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the elf. “Thanks,” he whispered. What would you do without me? There was a smile on his face, but there was something about it that didn’t make it seem about her. Laura followed her brother’s gaze to a small part of the barriered forest. There he was leaning against a tree, looking lost. Jack! He looked so different in his mortal clothes

It was a different site this time. A new part of the Forest Laura had never dared to venture into before. The King’s Lunar Revels were dangerous for her and her brother, Will, because they were just two mortals living in this world of magic. In one back turn from their caretaker, i, and the two could be under an enchantment that took their thoughts away from them. It took weeks of constant begging and pleading to be allowed to come to the Revel once again, and finally it had paid off. Laura could suddenly feel the lush green grass under her bare feet, marking the Revel’s territory. She felt a wave of wonder and curiosity pass through her. It was as if an invisible barrier stood in front of her. Parts of her long pink dress fluttered like a butterfly as she walked through. Laura gaped in wonder at the sight just as she had done each time before. She would never get over the sight. Past the zipping flying fairies, across the long pond for the tiniest nymphs, and up the everlasting and ancient stone steps was the grand dining table. It was made only out of the purest woods of the trees. It’s said that the Mothering Tree gives out the curling wooden table and chairs once a month during the fullest moon as a gift to the people and that is why King Rolf holds the Lunar Revels to celebrate their prosperity. But, as the sun comes up and the moon goes down, the table twists and turns back into the ground and becomes one with the Mothering Tree once again. Laura blushed a bit at everyone. There were centaurs and hobgoblins, nymphs and fairies, tiny bogles and giants, unicorns and sprites, shapeshifters and lots and lots of elves. Beautiful, enchanting elves. They had perfect glimmering skin and twinkling eyes that matched the stars and the wisps that lit up the area. She took in everyone and everything, held onto every bit of information for conversation. Laura had one wish; to fit in in this land she called home. And though she tried her hardest, it didn’t matter; To everyone else, she was just a mortal girl who they would never talk to. It is not that they didn’t want to, or at least that’s was what she always thought. It was just that there was no point in conversing with someone who couldn’t speak back. Laura could make sounds, but that’s all they ever were. There was only one person in the whole world that understood her: Will.

Aldren tried cheering her up, saying that even though she had lost the ability to speak, she gained the power to communicate with Will. Her brother was a year older than her and went through everything with her and never left her side. He could understand her in ways no one could explain. He could somehow hear her voice in his mind. For the first eight years of Laura’s life, Aldren tried finding a cure for her, but gave up after some time on that hope and focused on understanding how she could mentally transmit words, and why it only worked with Will. Will, like her, was mortal gifted with a form of magic, though his was much different than hers. When they were little, barely walking toddlers, her brother ventured for the first time into the forest. She, of course, was slowly behind him, trying to keep up. By the time anyone found them, Will was unconscious with a magical scar on his forehead and she was happily cuddling next to him. Laura cringed every time someone retold their story. Weeks later, Aldren realized Will’s musical based talent to fill people with certain feelings, no matter how horribly he played. To this date, none of them had a real explanation to what happened, just simply that it did. Will nudged her side. “Remember the rules,” he whispered. She looked up at him, transmitting a loud groan. They looked very similar with the same hazel-blue eyes, and light brown skin tone that didn’t help them blend in or make them stand out. They looked almost identical except for the long scar across his forehead to his defined cheekbones. The only problem was how different they looked from Aldred. He had much lighter, paler skin and neat blonde hair that was never out of place compared to their light brown golden mixed hair and Will’s habit of letting the mop that sat on his head go uncontrolled. “You think I want to come to a party without being able to do anything here,” he retorted. Laura nodded her head and then listed the rules back to him. No saying thank you to anyone. No talking to anyone for too long. Don’t stare deeply into anyone’s eyes. Don’t follow anyone anywhere unless Aldred gives his permission. No eating or drinking anything. Basically don’t do anything until Jack comes and we can sneak out. “Good,” he said, hearing her perfectly. He adjusted his blue tunic and overcoat jacket

and started scanning the area for his friend. “I hate how we have to get all dressed up for these Revels,” he complained, tugging at his ascot. At least you can wear pants! I have to wear this payered dress! Laura spun around for a bit of emphasis but quickly stopped when she felt her dress flying above her knees. Four layers of silk fell back into place against her bare legs bringing back the warm feeling. “Stay out of trouble,” Aldred said as he left the two of them for one of his court associates. They both quickly nodded and walked deeper into the Revel. The King was not here, as usual, which meant everyone was a more relaxed annoying version of themselves. Many people were already drowning themselves in wines and other beverages. There was even a unicorn picking off grapes from the table even though the time to eat had not come here. “Welcome mortals,” an elven male said to them. As far as she knew, Elen was on the King’s Council, but what he actually did, she didn’t know. His bright green eyes studied the two of them, tracing both their outlines. Laura couldn’t stop herself from staring at his own outfit. He looked exactly like a mini elven royalty with his 5 piece red outfit. She quickly blinked her eyes away. She had to stop staring at him for too long. It was one of the rules and she had to follow them. He looked serious, creasing his eyebrows at them as if something was wrong. Laura gulped, trying not to show any fear. “Would either of you like cream cakes? Or a drink?” He asked politely.

Jeweled Dragonfly by GraceLi

Crow

by GraceHe

The Town of

Fossilized

Hustles

Kestra didn’t know how to react to herself. Whether it was the broken pencils littering her floors in graphite dust or piles upon piles of newspaper articles halfway to ashes and burnt like their truths were all turned to lies. Half her wall was grazed with charcoal and burns that looked like the shadow of flames. She shimmied her jeans further up her waist and flexed her fingers continuously until her knuckles cracked. It was just more to fix. More to pay for. Kestra tucked the seam of her tank top into her jeans and waltzed out with her silky, brown hair rolling down her back and swinging this way-that with every step. She left as if nobody had just set off a bomb of anger in her room. Her fingers tapped the little reception bell at the front desk and Kestra eyed the large ring of keys on Ms. Marcil’s desk. “Something wrong with your room dear?” Ms. Marcil had said and looked up with pitiful devil eyes at Kestra and grinned with fake, chalky teeth. Her makeup looked like it was smeared and rubbed back into place. Kestra pulled a smile up the corners of her lips and plucked the keys from her desk before bolting through the broken, glass sliding door that was covered with a tarp. She ran to the car and planked underneath it with her elbows scraping the oily, black piping and mechanics hovering over her back. Kestra, with soot smeared over her bright herbal pink lips, fiddled with the chain that was latched to the bottom of the old Ruby-Breen-Jack-Speed-Lighting-Fast-Roofless-Buggy and pulled out the ring of keys. She drove away. Kestra pulled up along a sidewalk that main-

tained more cracks in its cement than it had when it was first laid like slop and baked into a rock-hard chocolate bar winding up the hills for miles. The sidewalk was a distinct border from the town she had grown up in and what people like to call, The Town of Fostilized Hustles. It was an odd, ruined city of cars hung mid-flip through a billboard and doors with holes shaped as if a human ran through it like in the cartoons. It was like the town was frozen in time. Kestra walked into an old, ghostly record shop with bumper stickers slathered on the boards of the walls. Once she stepped in, she could hear a note being played from the red and blue player on a sixlegged drawer. The record wasn’t winding around like a carousel but it hung on the F sharp. It sounded like a RAaaaarRRRRrrrAAAAaaaaaa that infinitely obliterated the silence. It didn’t loop though. Kestra, hesitant to touch the record and break the siren, dusted a desert-full of lint off the label to reveal an image of a man sitting on a couch made of bubble gum. He had pink sunglasses and white devil horns. “Rexity Max,” Kestra smirked and lingered out the door to catch her breath. She couldn’t hear the sound from the record shop anymore but it followed her and snuck in through an invisible gap in the back of her head. She kept walking when the sun started to drown itself in pink and purple clouds and the sky began to collect dusty, bright freckles that streaked the crepuscule’s brows. Moonlight slowly settled on the roads of infinitely perennial weeds sprouting through cracks in clumps of pieces of the road. Kestra came to a stop at a dungeon of shops

byMayaDakua • artKeiraPlotkin embedded with the scent of soft-serve ice cream and bleach-dried table tapestry. The only socially symbolic value to this part of the town was the stacks upon stacks of newspapers that never flinched in the nonexistent breeze or were never drained of words from the hypothetical rainfall that was never witnessed. Some papers flopped onto benches and others were shoved between doors and their disintegrating door frames. She imagined the halfway burnt newspaper articles in her room. She remembers running her hands through the images on fire as if it were her own hair. They were the same articles…. except issued more than a decade ago. The cover page was laid out like a yearbook from an ancient high school. The headline boldly stated, “Wrong End of Town,” like it was yelling curses at Kestra’s face or like it was her mom demanding work be done…. not that she had a mom. Kestra drooled a little while staring at the towers of paper that layered the streets with a miniature city for the tiniest of elves. But she was looking for something. She was looking for freedom except instead of leaving the town for it, she was engraving new paths into an abandoned void. ~~~ Kestra silently walked into the town hall with her toes hitting the ground before her heels. Her fingers marched the air while quivering in confidence, not fear. A pair of over-polished, spruce doors stood open just enough to let some light sift its way through the dusty air wrangling the atmosphere in speech bubbles. Kestra confidently slipped into the room like a spider and crawled through the gap in a dresser drawer. Her silky, brown, hair was bouncing off her back and Kestra’s eyes glared into every corner of the room. The room was grandiose and looked like a ballroom without chandeliers. Tall, vertical, windows were cut out of the walls and the sun, though bright and always moving, didn’t let the treasure’s glitter disappear. An assortment of coins was spilling out of the walls and cabinet files of photo albums were vomiting memories. Kestra gave a sarcastic chuckle and dusted the head of a stuffed, but oddly cadaverous deer, and looked it into its marble eyes with a smirk. Kestra stared into the deer’s lifeless presence as the sound of the still, but the singing record from the record shop slowly made its way into the environment. Eyes pooling with water, she kept staring as the

rrrAAAARRRRrrraaaaAAAaaaRRRRrrrr from the record shop lept into her ears and punched her eardrums. Louder and louder it became and slowly she could hear the distortion of the song. It sang like a band of ants marching through her head. Abruptly, Kestra could hear sirens and see lights of red and blue reflecting off the deer’s marble eyes. People stomped out their cars and rushed through the roads of infinitely perennial weeds and fled out of the sunlight. The noises gathered closer to her, and the next thing to surprise the moment was the clicking and clacking of Ms. Marcil’s needle heels, the engine of the Ruby-Breen-Jack-Speed-Lighting-FastRoofless-Buggy blowing its snout, and the emphatic jingling of the ring of keys. Kestra kept staring. The sounds were hiking up the town hall and what was supposed to be the intimidating sound of the police and Ms. Marcil seemed more timid than threatening. Kestra put her hands behind her back, silently smiled, and blinked. Without a trace of muffled noise, there was silence. The fluttering of Kestra’s lashes subdued the air and the only movement that remained was a slow breeze whispering the news of a paralyzed room. Kestra’s eyes were narrow and malevolent. Her grin was up to one side of her face showing no teeth. She spun around with her hands held behind her back and waltzed out the door. All that was left different in the room were a pair of needle heels that were set on the ground and a ring of keys next to them. No people shouting or running up the stairs, just movement caught in the atmosphere. Outside were the police cars parked around the town hall with their lights bright blue and red but not flashing. They illuminated the grandiose parking lot with a cold and unearthly tone. Kestra walked out to find the Ruby-Breen-Jack-Speed-Lighting-Fast-Roofless-Buggy halfway up the road. She got in it and drove away from the town leaving a scene of the crime and a dozen fossilized hustles.

Suspiciously Officer, I know how this looks right now, but I promise you, I did not do it. Yes, I am standing above my husband who is dead and has multiple stab wounds and I am holding a butcher knife that is covered in blood, and indeed I am, too, covered in blood, but it truly is a very simple misunderstanding. This fine Saturday morning, my husband had informed me that he was going hiking with some friends, and would return later today. I decided to use his absence to cook a fancy dinner and surprise him as I had been taking a culinary class at the nearby college, and I wanted to put what I had learned to practice. So, I went to the nearest grocery store to pick up some ingredients such as a slab of steak, vegetables, and some spices for seasoning. Once I arrived back home, I knew I still had a few hours before my husband arrived home, so I went into our backyard with some Cup-O-Noodles for lunch, settled onto our patio couches, and continued reading the book of Guinness World Records. As I started reading about the fastest person to run in heels, I heard the front door open. I was quite surprised as I hadn’t expected my husband to arrive home so soon and I hurried inside intending to ask why he was home early and attempt to conceal the grocery bags. But no one was there and the front door remained swinging open... I deduced it must have been some neighborhood prankster or incredibly strong wind. I closed the door, leaving it unlocked given our lock was malfunctioning—I really need to ask my husband to fix it. At this point, I felt it was time to start preparing dinner and I took out the steak and a sharp knife. However, the knife wasn’t quite sharp enough as I experienced difficulty trying to cut it. Minutes passed

and I was still going nowhere with the cutting, so I decided to start whacking it in hopes of it becoming easier to cut, splattering blood everywhere and onto me. This tiresome activity, I felt, warranted a short break. I took a moment to catch my breath, when suddenly the door slammed open once again. I grabbed my knife and ran towards the door, intending to give the culprit a good scare and stop this nonsense. Instead, I found my husband splayed on the floor, covered in blood. After staring at this horrifying sight for who knows how long, you came in and saw me standing over my husband’s body holding a blood stained knife. So you see, I did not commit this heinous crime, and please find who did!

Guilty byGraceHe • artMeghaMadhabhushi

Divergence by SophiaLee

C O

byMeghaMadhabhushi • artGraceLi/MeghaMadhabhushi

PRANK

Tara pushed against the laminated wooden door, entering the brightly lit classroom. History. Her favorite class. Not because of the subject, just the people and teacher. She slid theher sleeve of her jacket off her shoulder. The rest of the school was so controlling and demanding, Mr. Dreyer just let them all be them, no matter what background or delinquency they came from. “Today’s the day,” her twin brother said from his seat at the front of the class, then continued talking to Libby and Eric. “6/10 Tara,” Bea sneered as Tara walked by the rich kid group. Tara just ignored Bea. Everyone in her crowd did, except for her idiot brother who always

wanted to impress her for some reason. Bea and her friends always tried to lord over everyone with their overdone makeup and unique style, but it was just part of the school experience. She slumped her light pink backpack onto the ground and took the seat next to Tyre. Tara could smell the fresh disgusting hints of smoke from Jesper sitting in the corner. Vivian held a small game of cards in the side of the room, taking little bets of money and food coupons from half the class. “Alright, is everyone here?” Mr. Dreyer walked into the room. His chestnut hair was combed to the right ever so slightly. He was wearing his usual colored button down shirt and jeans. “Who you trying to impress today?” Roy called out. Tara looked down at Mr. Dreyer's shoes. Completely polished and shining, and most importantly, dress shoes. Bea almost snorted. “If he was trying to impress someone he wouldn’t be wearing clothes styled from the 2030’s” “Perceptive, Ms. Rivera.” He walked down the aisles counting the heads of them all. By the time he was at his desk, everyone was in their seats. No more gambling games, no more flying paper airplanes, if it was any other teacher the fun would have continued, but Mr. Dreyer wasn’t just any other teacher.

He sat down at his desk, eyeing each of them. For a moment, she could feel Tyre mimicking her panic, thinking he figured something was up. But he just went back to the papers and the blue cased computer that was waiting for him on his desk. Tara, Tyre, and Eric all leaned forward. His fingers traced the lip of the computer. The anticipation was slowly killing her. Finally in one motion he opened his computer, releasing the coco powder and milk mix everywhere. Bea and Libby screamed alongside the popping sound. The entire class burst into laughter. Tara was sure even the quiet moody kids like Jase were smirking. “Mister and Miss Viniellre,” he said, wiping off part of the mixture off his face. “Coco. First domesticated 12,400 years ago,” Tyre added. Jesper got up, pushing his chair back. “Don’t forget the cat litter. Domesticated after the cats were.” Tara and Tyre gave him a look. Jesper was a chemical wizard. For the prank they asked him to make the solution for just coco and milk so Mr. Dreyer wouldn’t have too much of a hassle and so they all could get a laugh. “What! I needed a clumping agent!” he argued. “Well Mr. Orin, my cats will definitely be thanking you when I get home today.” “Mr. Dreyer,” Tyre suddenly said. “How come you never get mad at us.” “Any other teacher would have just written us off to the principal.” Roy jumped out of his seat and onto his desk. “I kinda have a collection,” he shrugged coolly. “You wanna know why I let you guys just express yourselves,” Mr. Dreyer asked. They all nodded. “Look, I know where each and every one of you came from. Punishing you for your behavior isn’t going to change you anything, but creating a more open environment will.” “You want us to feel like we have a choice,” Tara said. She felt a huge wave of relief. Mr. Dreyer was right as usual. This school had nothing but rules and regulations. They lived on the grounds, they went to school on the grounds, there wasn’t much else they were even allowed to do. “This classroom is supposed to be a place where

we can just act like our real selves,” Jase said, taking the words out of her head. “Exactly!” Mr. Dreye gave a smile. “Whether it be tech geek, chemist, fashion designer, or even prankster. You’re all 16 or 17, you need your creative outlets.” “I never thought I’d say this,” Bea said with real snort this time. “But, thank you.” “Yeah,” Tyre agreed. “This school would suck more than it already does without you,” Roy added. Mr. Dreyer looked like he was about to cry, but it also could have been the litter clumps getting into his eyes. “Ah, all of you. Sit back down, let’s get back to history.”

Detour

byRachelFienstien • photo GraceHe • artMeghaMadhabhushi street blocked shoulders stop sprinting heart slammed wall of pitiful apologies and indifferent shrugs battered sign pointing inevitable orange paint fate I hate bubbling laughter beyond sharp stained line never master line invisible impervious piercing line lump daggered whispers sizzling tears lodged in my throat not enough sugar to coat truth facing orange paint fate I hate tick tick tick

my bike antique clock off rhythm knocking in my head time wasted shadows bright only light pedaling through dense fog choking back tears like a frog murmurs of “you can’t do this” haunt me I want more than their taunts pedaling harder condensation my determination fog fades clear path ahead adventure firm in my head every twist turn a lesson not limit preparation for the right time not the fastest climb orange paint fate I await

SHE TURNED AND RAN HE RAN AFTER HER HE FOUND HER FACING HIM A SILENT TEAR STREAMED DOWN HER FACE SHE WAS GOING TO KISS HIM SHE TRIED TO RESIST, BUT SHE WAS A MEAGER WALL TRYING TO HOLD BACK A MIGHTY OCEAN.

HER BODY TURNED TO STONE AS SHE WENT NUMB HER FACE WENT PALE AS SHE THOUGHT OF THE MEMORIES THE VOICE IN HER HEAD WHISPERED TO HER “RUN” SHE TRIED TO RESIST, BUT SHE WAS A MEAGER WALL TRYING TO HOLD BACK A MIGHTY OCEAN.

SHE CLOSED HER EYES AND TOOK A BREATH THUMP THUMP. THUMP THUMP. THUMP THUMP. SHE COULD FEEL THE ANXIETY PULSING THROUGH HER LIKE BLOOD SHE STEPPED IN AND WAS GREETED WITH NAUSEA THOUGHTS FLOODED HER MIND SHE TRIED TO RESIST, BUT SHE WAS A MEAGER WALL TRYING TO HOLD BACK A MIGHTY OCEAN.

byJulesIrulegui • artKeiraPlotkin

WHAT DOES SHE SEE? DOES SHE SEE A WORLD FULL OF PEOPLE WHO LIE AND DO THINGS ONLY FOR THEMSELVES? OR DOES SHE SEE A WORLD OF PEOPLE WHO ARE LOYAL AND HELP OTHERS? THE ROCKS ARE PILED ON TOP OF ONE ANOTHER. TRYING TO BE THE BIGGEST AND ON TOP. THEY HIDE THE INNOCENCE OF LIFE AND PUT ON AN OUTER SHELL. THE SKY LURKS OVERHEAD WAITING FOR THE CHANCE TO POUNCE AND BRING CHAOS TO ALL. IT WAITS FOR THE LAST LIGHT OF HOPE TO DISAPPEAR AND THEN IT STRIKES OR IS THIS ALL WRONG? ARE WE CHOOSING TO SEE THE WORLD THIS WAY? AS A PLACE OF HATRED AND PAIN? YES, BECAUSE IF NOT, THE WORLD REALLY IS A PLACE OF SUFFERING.

Our Convenience Kills

by Sophia Lee

Photo

Grace He

Rachel F.

Gallery

Rachel F.

Grace He

Rachel F.