Grass this lush was legend where she came from. It had been worth reversing time just for this rich aroma.
Of course, in some ways, that was why she came. To plant a garden. A promise for tomorrow, to save… everything.
She arrived as Cassandra, fearing her omens would be unheard, but we already knew what was upon us, were allowing it to consume us. Anxious, nauseous, passive. That was the horror of it.
At night she listened to the rain and wondered if should she give up too. Still, raindrops kept tapping the glass, counting out hours, minutes, seconds.