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It was strange

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It was strange. Very strange. He couldn't remember how he'd arrived here, nor the circumstances under which he'd met his Teacher, or anything about himself before then, for that matter.


The smell of a light drizzle in the afternoon, and the scent of a changing season, filled his surroundings. There was no rain, though, and there wasn't any wind, either. It was a very peculiar sort of weather, if you can call it that.


It was just him, the bed of flowers at his feet, and the watering pot in his hands. He didn't know why he was carrying the pot. It wasn't as though the plants needed to be watered, after all.But he watered them, anyway, as he'd been doing every day for...How long had it been?


A very, very long time, probably.


He didn't recall, and he didn't think he'd ever know. The passage of time was something of a blur, as well, as it had been for some unknown span of years. He'd forgotten a great many things.But not everything. He could still remember what was important, at least. Like his name, his Teacher, and the peculiar situation they were trapped in, that separated them from the outside world.


Things would fall down here, sometimes, and he'd take a look. And once, he found something that seemed useful. But by the time he tried to bring it to his Teacher, it had broken into pieces.He never found anything else that worked.


The watering pot, though, that had stuck around. There was no point in it, though. It wasn't like the plants actually grew or changed or died or anything. It was the same as the day he first found them.

It was strange. Very strange. He couldn't remember how he'd arrived here, nor the circumstances under which he'd met his Teacher, or anything about himself before then, for that matter.


He felt like his memory had been damaged, somehow. Or like he'd fallen asleep for a very, very long time, only to awaken without realizing it. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, though. His memories were fuzzy, and they were full of gaps, but it wasn't something that worried him.


And why should it?


He wasn't alone, after all.


As long as he could remember, he'd always had his Teacher. He'd always had a reason to keep going.


That was more than enough.


He finished tending to the flowers, and wiped the sweat from his brow. It wasn't a particularly hot day, nor was he particularly tired, but it felt right. "That should do it, they look pretty happy."He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was positive the flowers were glad. He'd spent so long taking care of them, after all, that he'd gotten good at it.

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