“What do you see in me?” she asked, taking in the scenery and avoiding my gaze. The grass seemed almost dead or dying anyways, a barren land filled with dry soil and unimportant litter.
Lighting up my cigarette I took a deep breathe. The clicking of a lighter shook the land, fear quivered from the brittle bits of leaves and sticks.
“Why ask? There are too many answers to this question you ask,” I answered, not wanting to ponder on the subject. “What do you see in this piece of land?”
She hesitated, trying digest and understand what my question meant: were there any deeper meanings? Was I trying to say something?
“Well… It’s a dead plain, for now. It’ll grow again someday, but I don’t know when, nor do I know if anything else will have to happen before it becomes green and luscious again.”
I dropped my lit cigarette onto the dry inferno.

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