for
gen_drabble; Nepenthe, "the one that chases away sorrow".
*
“Why don’t you meditate?” Teer asks one morning, gently incurious.
“I do,” John says (lies), twiddling a grass-stem.
“You sleep,” she corrects, her expression sweet but humorless. (Nobody ever really smiles here.)
“I don’t want to ascend,” he says; don’t want to leave them behind, he doesn’t
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