"Where have you been?" The question wasn't a nice welcome, it was a demand. Nova greeted me in a formal way. He sat straight up on the big, soft sofa where I usually met my guests. A thin line of steam from his cup was the only soft thing from him.
I let out a tired breath, "How could you not know? You're supposed to know everything," I shot back, feeling worn out. I walked past him and started unrolling the familiar, old mat I use for meditating, without looking him in the eye.
A low, deep sound—a sign of him always having to correct me came from the sofa. "I'm not a God, so I don't know everything," Nova said, like he was stating a simple rule.
"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled, already kneeling on the mat. I focused on getting ready, not on his lecture.
