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Beatrice had come home early to find Elise with her tongue inside the fire-flower plant.

“What is this!–Am I not enough for you?”

Elise’s mind was too far gone, lost in the visions produced by the ecstatic nectars of the plant, normally reserved for special ceremonies. Instead of Beatrice, she only heard echoes from a distant shadow. Crystalline colors appeared, then a memory of spilling ice cream as a child.

“Oh god, you’ve had too much again. You damn bitch!”

Beatrice began to cry and stormed out.

Elise didn’t mind. She just fell deeper, and deeper. Soon the sacred plant would start to glow from within. Under the empty sky of a new moon, the light would sharpen through the sun roof, and dragonflies would lay their eggs.

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