{Now, if you are over your internal emotional struggles, get up.}
Blood gushed and tainted his clothes. But the memory lane was merciless. It would not stop; it was incapable of doing so.
Another switch, another scene. Another fragment pulled from one of their memories. None of them pulled for the reason of making the intruder happy.
The labyrinth picked its victim at random. The seer was just unlucky.
It was the rooftops yet again, the same old grey sky that was ready to pour down at any minute.
The safety nets did nothing to hinder the flow of the strong winds.
And there, yet again, atop the water tank lay the younger seer, less roughed up than before, more mannered, better dressed.
He lay yawning on the girl's lap.
"You won't ask why?" she asked, looking at the horizon and then at the one who lay on her lap.
