That’s neighbourly indeed. Beautiful as a poem declaimed in drunken games, as a flower bud ringed by frost—beautiful and fragile as a newborn child struggling to breathe. Without Arighan’s Flower, the universe cannot renew itself and start a new story. I think Tika’s finally accepted me.
“Everyone but you,” Fabbro mildly agreed, reaching down for his binoculars once more so he could look at some unusual duck or other that he’d noticed out on the water. Tawus looked down towards the lake. “I blamed myself for years over Melanie,” she said. Just enough and no more.
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