From the Mixed-Up Google Docs of Ata: Time
A child walks the dirt road, feet bare and caked with dust. Her goldenrod yellow cape is much too long, dragging on the ground, creating swirling patterns that mark her path. In one hand she carries a bronze scythe, the handle carved in ornate patterns. In the other, a clay bowl full of black oil. On either side of the road, fields of dew-laden sunflowers rustle and lean, heads facing east to catch the first rays of the rising sun. They watch the child travelling eastward. Unsurprised, they have seen this sight before. They do not ask, do not answer, only bear silent witness...
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