Lion Head Mesa we don't talk about Cicero, no, no, no

Mmm, she remarked to his answer, still wondering. Pharaoh must have quite a pull. He asked a couple questions, peppered with kisses, and she smiled, closing her eyes and placing her nose upon the first couple vertebrae along his spine.

They always do, Maegi assured him. And you? How do you feel?

It was all too easy to imagine Mou here next to her, rather than the fellahin. That was the beauty of the seeds; they loosened the bounds between reality and fantasy, blurring the lines between the corporeal and spiritual. 

Mou had never spoken much. In these moments, the spaces between sentences, she clung to her husband.

Only when Sayf spoke again would the spell be broken.