Baffu got up and went to the plant. Doctors was right; one of the buds was splitting. Baffu held his finger out and the blossom crawled onto it, seeming grateful for the warmth. Its cluster of crinkled petals pulsed and swelled, turning into wings. Its eyes glowed with the internal light of coals under ash.
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“Good enough,” Doctors said. “Good enough.” Then he looked at the potted plant and got up from his couch. While he had been speaking the rain had thinned and then stopped, though clouds still hid the world beyond the sky. “I think the buds have been softened enough for the blossoms to…”
Baffu got up and went to the plant. Doctors was right; one of the buds was splitting. Baffu held his finger out and the blossom crawled onto it, seeming grateful for the warmth. Its cluster of crinkled petals pulsed and swelled, turning into wings. Its eyes glowed with the internal light of coals under ash.
As Baffu went back to the porch, First Wife came out carrying a tray holding bowls of dumplings and sauces to dip them in.
“If you don’t eat something you’ll be sorry in the morning,” she said. “And anyway, it’s not a proper blossom viewing without dumplings.”
She set the tray down on the table between the couches and Doctors looked up at her.
“You are the ring of light that shines around the world,” he said in the language of poets. “You shine and turn the clouds to pearl.”
“Drunk, you,” she said in the pidgen of the market, and smiled.
“Look,” Baffu said, and held the blossom down where she could see it.
The blossom suddenly unfolded its glowing petals with their pattern of gold and rose. First Wife reached toward it and Doctors said, “Careful, dear. It’s an Ember Tiger. They sting.”
First Wife held her hands still and as one sleeve slipped Baffu saw, by the light of the Ember Tiger, a dappled pattern on her arm like the petals of the blossom. The marks were mauve and lavender…
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