The girl’s mother had a rule: not to whistle at night because the ghosts would come. But all girls are curious so she whistled anyway. When her mother caught her she was scolded. After that, she stopped whistling for a while.

When she was seven they moved from Tokyo to New York.

In New York, the girl’s mother was lonely. She spoke no English and she had no friends. Soon, she also had no words, just the secret sadness she screamed into the closet when she thought no one was looking. The girl saw, but she said nothing because she understood these kinds of secrets. Ten-year-old girls understand all types of things. Like the fact the boy in her science class doesn’t actually like her but just wanted to feel her chest. Like the fact her teacher yelling at her for being frozen in class because she was scared of getting her English wrong didn’t mean that she was really a stupid girl. She placed these things she understands behind her molars. She hoped maybe one day she’d lose them with her wisdom teeth.

At home, the girl barely saw her father, because he was a salaryman, and she knew this because he was always gone and when he was home his face was always tired and gray like the dark side of the moon. So it was just her and her mother most evenings.

One night, she is bored and her American house is so empty and big, she forgets about the rule.

She gasps when she realizes what she’s done and claps her hand to her mouth. She makes eye-contact with her mother across the too-big living room. Her chest thumps inside her brand new sports bra. The girl’s mother thinks for a minute, then she says, I suppose maybe there are no ghosts in America. So the rest of the night until she falls asleep, the little girl whistles.

The next morning she wakes up and her mother is gone. In her place is an origami shaped like a butterfly fluttering in the house. But she understands her mother isn't gone, she knows it is her mother flying around in the kitchen. It speaks to her, it says good morning, what would you like for breakfast? And it knows what she wants for breakfast and makes her a sunny side up with toast. For the first time it seems her mother is happy. She is colorful and she flies through the kitchen light-winged, lighter than she's ever been. This pleases the girl.

When she leaves for school the butterfly comes to the door, waves her off, and says, have a nice day at school. When she returns from school in the afternoon, the house is empty. There is no butterfly, and there is no mother. She goes out into the garden, and thinks she sees a butterfly out of the corner of her eye, but when she turns, there is nothing, just the January snow.