Morning after, "If she had any strength at all she would shatter into tears. Banished or no, some small part of her had clung all night to the irrational hope that, come morning, they might be allowed to return. That the awful night was just a warning. But with each heavy step she grows more certain: it wasn't a warning. This isn't a lesson. This is life. "
On grapes after starving across a desert, "The vines clamber around the bare boles of taller, branchless trees, and the clusters of fat green grapes hand down like breasts, like testicles, like anything that promises life, continuation, eternity."
On regret, "The Garden lingers like the faint odor of a long-dead flower; like the remembered scent of a lover. A vacant despair that rises each morning like the sun. Predators dog their steps, heavy with threat."
When the first winter comes, "a steady wind bows through the valley like a malevolent breath. The water turns to stone."
~Fallen by David Maine
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