So Hawk and Vlad stayed as the day wore on and the shadows in the alleyway shifted. Others came and went, bringing flowers and other items to lay beneath one of the windows of the glassworks; a pair of aproned workers appeared out of the glassworks and brought stools for Hawk and Vlad. Suyan kept roaming around, seeming unable to settle, as she told Hawk--and through him, the many visitors--about the University, and how she passed by Palma's every day, and how her parents were still in Shanxi, and her favorite syia vendor. Occasionally she would start looking on the ground again, unaware of the people milling around or the objects they left behind.

It was only once the alleyway was fully in shadow, towards evening, that she finally laid down with her legs tucked beneath herself, next to Hawk. The window had been turned fully into a memorial by now; the sill was laid with flowers arranged around glass tapers that substituted for candles. There was burning incense, an open book, a plate of fresh fruit, and the beginnings of a mural above the window, painted by a person who stood on stilts to reach it. Suyan had been quiet for a while, but the visitors there spoke to each other instead, discussing how to reach out to Suyan's family and what they could do to keep tabs on each other.

Suyan was staring up. Except for Hawk's endlessly shifting form, there was nothing.

Finally, she said, < ...I think I'm ready for this to be over. >