they still believe he existed (somewhere), that he burned in
the sun. Centuries pass, troubadours and storyweavers begin
telling his tale, each ending Ahn-jin’s adventure differently:
the pelican, with age, falls from the sky, the two
disappearing in the trees; the two become one, conquering
the sky, becoming god over the wind. But none knows for
certain.
When Scheherazade finished her story, Shahryar asked:
“Is that the end?”
She answered:
“Yes.”
Shahryar leaned close to kiss his new bride:
“You will always tell me these stories, my love?”
His lips graced her forehead, but she flinched.
“Does the sky have its end?”
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