The flowers that grow around the city of Indorum are nearly all violets. Scattered among them are a sparse collection of yellow tulips. It must be here that a woman might recline on a soft blanket, spending warm mornings waiting for word from the governor. And, when the evening draws near, it is from this place--among the tulips that the little girl accompanying her has been gathering--that the stars begin to show their brightest. The sky a richer sort of black than we are used to.
When in the absent hours of the day we begin to discuss the mystery of the city's disappearance, it is always with a thought to hold a glass of beer. Our search is not so earnest as we might lead others to think. We have come to believe that she will return in her own time.
And when she does, it will be one of us she chooses to love.
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