Coconut Grove threw clods upon his head

backdated to 02/03/21

a husk here, a trunk there. aditya clambered over what was left of coconut grove, his heart heavy.

he had gone back and forth on coming here, but had eventually decided to venture down from the moors. now, he wished he hadn't. he wished he could take back this scene, erase it from memory. that, and the storm, too— he wanted to remember the grove at its best.

when he'd been govinda. happy. with purpose.

perhaps some young trees grew anew, sprung from scattered fruit. but if they existed, they were beneath the snow, buried underground. only when spring returned would they sprout, and perhaps not even then. he settled with a sigh on one of the fallen trees; the smell of wood-rot rose, pungent in his nose.

like a sentinel, he surveyed his barren, broken kingdom. lucas, hamartia, aiko. . . he hoped they were well, wherever they were. govinda had died in radha's embrace, never to return. that had been a good man, a pious man.

aditya was anything but.