Part 2 – The Seed
In a city bloated with light but starved of memory, something stirred beneath the concrete.
It looked like fruit. Just a fruit.
Ripened by accident, or fate, it found its way into a woven tray among guavas and oranges, waiting on the wooden table of a quiet market woman.
She didn't see it - not as different, but her fingers paused over it, hovered, drawn. A whisper only her body heard.
She bought the fruit. Her husband teased her for the indulgence.
And she ate it.