The day I received my grandmother’s keepsakes, impossible red snow began falling across the globe.
As I tried on the embroidered qipao she left behind, the stitches suddenly writhed and tightened, squeezing me with the agony of someone on the brink of death.
As I teetered on the edge of death, I saw my reflection transform into the woman my grandmother had been sixty years ago. Behind her
The survivors of the entire city were wearing human skin and holding a grand wedding at the end of the world.
