On nights when the moon carved long, pale fingers across the harbor, Mara would walk to the water and press her ear to the hull of some ship moored near. Beneath the paint and sea-salt, she would sometimes hear a faint chime, like coral singing through a glass. She smiled and, without moving, imagined the pond in Xhroovy and the possibility that had looked back at her—small, patient, and waiting for hands willing to let some things go.
As xhroovy continues to gain momentum, it's clear that this trend is here to stay. In the near future, we can expect to see: xhroovy
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