[ two rambutans. kaveh, who graduated a kshahrewar, not a haravatat, finds poetry in it. two, never one. alhaitham says, where would you go that i cannot find you?, and it adds to the sentiment. always two, never one, never kaveh by himself, never just alhaitham. he waxes poetry on the red rambutans, gives himself the weight of guilt, to replace the weight he has lost, too. he bleeds for those who breathe and those who do not, and wonders, then, how he is supposed to eat one fruit at a time.
he does not eat, again, just yet, but does not say anything either. there is an answer at the tip of his tongue, but kaveh does not dare voice it.
there is only one place he could go that alhaitham would not be able to follow. sooner or later, he knows, he would have to leave him behind, and be met with loneliness once more. the sky is a beautiful shade of blue, the leaves are sunset-orange, the rambutans are unbearably sweet. it is a good day. kaveh would not spoil it. ]
... Omar must have personally sorted them for me, then. I should thank him later.
[ he bites into one of them, eventually. for kaveh, whose taste buds are not what they used to be, the rambutan tastes just perfect. not overly sweet, he finds. not for him.
he bites into the second rambutan after, and decides to eat them together. ]
Do you remember what you dreamed of last night? [ in between bites, kaveh asks, a quiet voice so light the wind carries it with ease. ] Tell me about it if you do.
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Date: 2023-05-21 10:06 pm (UTC)he does not eat, again, just yet, but does not say anything either. there is an answer at the tip of his tongue, but kaveh does not dare voice it.
there is only one place he could go that alhaitham would not be able to follow. sooner or later, he knows, he would have to leave him behind, and be met with loneliness once more. the sky is a beautiful shade of blue, the leaves are sunset-orange, the rambutans are unbearably sweet. it is a good day. kaveh would not spoil it. ]
... Omar must have personally sorted them for me, then. I should thank him later.
[ he bites into one of them, eventually. for kaveh, whose taste buds are not what they used to be, the rambutan tastes just perfect. not overly sweet, he finds. not for him.
he bites into the second rambutan after, and decides to eat them together. ]
Do you remember what you dreamed of last night? [ in between bites, kaveh asks, a quiet voice so light the wind carries it with ease. ] Tell me about it if you do.