The rain started when Hana left the station.
She pulled her old up the narrow street.
In her pocket, there was a photo.
It was fifty years old, and a little .
In the photo, a young woman laughed in front of a small café.
The above the door said, "The 's Nest."
"Grandma," Hana said softly. "I'm here."
Hana Mori was twenty-two, and her English was not perfect.
But she had made a , so she came.
At the end of the street, she stopped.
The café from the photo was still there.
The paint was older, but the was the same.
A warm light shone through the rainy window.
Hana pushed the door, and a little rang.
"Oh dear, you are all wet!" said a voice.
An old woman came out from behind the .
She had white hair and bright, kind eyes.
"Sit by the fire. I will bring you something hot."
Hana sat down and looked around the room.
Old photos and postcards covered the walls.
The smell of baking filled the warm air.
"I am Peggy," the woman said, bringing tea and cake.
"The lemon cake is fresh. You look like you need it."
"Thank you. I am Hana. I... came from Japan."
"Japan!" Peggy's eyes changed for a small moment.
But then she smiled again. "Welcome to Elmbury, dear."
Near the , Hana saw a box.
It had a small card on the front.
"Letters that were never sent," it said.
"What is this box?" Hana asked.
"A home for words that could not fly," Peggy said quietly.
Outside, on the , a small landed in the rain.
Peggy looked at it for a long time.
"Hello, old friend," she whispered.
In Hana's bag, deep under her clothes, there was a letter.
Her grandmother wrote it in her last spring.
On the were five short words: "To Peggy. From Michiko."
Hana held her warm cup and said nothing yet.