The Conch Snail

On the walk to school, during breaks between classes, and every night before bed as I looked back on the day, that voice would sometimes appear, lingering in my thoughts. It was ethereal and beautiful, full of tender warmth. Up close, it could set the imagination racing; from afar, it was so beautiful it defied description. Yet whenever Meiyu deliberately tried to focus on it, it would vanish as alertly as a sprite. Perhaps it had retreated into the soul of some girl nearby.