Chapter 13 · free to read
Fourteen hours on a train and a songthaew, holding a bundle of bark like an injured bird.
It looked terrible. It looked like something dragged out of a fire.
Four hands. Same as the first day, over the same plant, in the same corner.
Three weeks of not saying it first, and in the end neither of us did. We just stopped pretending the pot needed both of us.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.