The Windowsill
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Where Rallah kept the cutting. Where she sat and listened.
Rallah kept a live cutting of the flora on the south-facing sill. Not dried. Living, in a clay pot she’d made herself. She watered it carefully, turned it toward the light. On nights when the Shake came, she would take it to the table and sit with it. Kai asked her once what she was doing.
Listening, Rallah had said.
New chapters arrive when they’re ready. No algorithm. Just the next part of the story.
She had whole rooms in her I never got to see. That’s not the same thing as being kept out.