The Orchard of Unspoken Names

The orchard arrived with no house, no money and a letter from an aunt Lio barely remembered. You do not have to keep it, the letter said. You only have to walk through it once.

Each tree carried a name carved beneath its lowest branch. Some were familiar. One belonged to her brother, with whom she had not spoken in five years. His tree had grown across the path.

The gardener at the gate explained that the orchard grew from unfinished conversations. Cutting a tree down only made its roots travel farther.

Lio laughed because the explanation was impossible. Then she found her own name on a tree at the center. Its branches were heavy with small, hard fruit she could not identify.