update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/marsh/013.html

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 <p>It was so small, and that vast, open space remained silent, empty. The settings on the sim were such that we would only ever see or hear ourselves in there. There might well be billions of others struggling with their own double handfuls of grief, and yet it would only ever be us.</p>
 <p>There was more grief to be felt there, layered beneath the exhaustion, confusion, responsibility, and however many more complex emotions had been caked on top. There would come a time when the ability to simply grieve would be laid bare, I knew, and soon, but it was not yet.</p>
 <p>And so we stayed in silence.</p>
+<p>Dry Grass was the first to break the silence, mumbling. &ldquo;In The Wind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was that, love?&rdquo; Tule asked, brushing fingers through her hair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was my up-tree instance. In The Wind.&rdquo; She laughed, choked and hoarse. &ldquo;I remember the rattle of dry grass in the wind. I picked that up from Louie. Eir clade did much the same. I thought I was <em>so clever.</em>&ldquo;</p>
+<p>Tule, more flexible than I, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Cress gave her own kiss after. Both of them glanced briefly at me, looking a little sheepish.</p>
 <p>&hellip;</p>
 <p>The night with Cress, Tule, and Dry Grass was&hellip;comfortable. Whenever I tried to think of another word for it, nothing seemed to fit.</p>
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