She came to me with something hidden behind her back, asking whether it was alright to surprise me. Imagine my surprise then, when she offered me a larma, unbidden, held out to me in the palms of both hands. The girl had knelt and put her head down as well. No, I was not merely surprised. I was stunned to the point that my heart had skipped a beat, and my breath had been briefly stolen.
I think I have been led down this same road before by this same kajira. Yet each time it comes to the same fork and the same dead-end. I never ate the offered larma. Nor did I partake of the outward symbolism that the offering of it should suggest. For I am certain that it was done unintentionally. Or with an ulterior motive. Neither of which I blame the girl for.
Raja means well.
Always.
Though both of us would now live amongst one another for the time being, beneath the same Liar's Moon.
