Honey got in through the trap door again. It was so sticky this time that nothing could be let in or out. It was either winter or a wild fire. Nothing was breathing. Just ash floating in the sky like snow. Like bits of broken butterfly wings.

So nature made it rain. Cleared the air. Watered the foundations. And surprisingly enough, there were seeds burrowed in the dirt. Forgotten little things waiting to burst through. In no time wild flowers and ferns bubbled up. And the sun and stars breathed out in relief.

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