Each vine appeared to have a mind, a life, of its own, moving individually, never in concert with any other vine. Yet the vines clearly had the same g...al. Her. Her four hundredth Midsummer was at hand. Yet, it was to be her last. She was to be sacrificed, so that her people could continue to prosper, to thrive. With the exception of the nearby stream and the very subtle rustle of the leaves of the ancient tree, all was absolutely silent. Even the young ones did not stir, did not cry, did. But before I could put her in a tricky situation, she asked me about my friend that puzzled me. She was quite casual while asking for his number and told me that it was about a trivial matter over a library book.After I gave my friend’s number to her, there came an unending series of doubts in my mind. My friend rarely came to college, so he didn’t have any other friends except me.Soon, she began to chat with me less frequently and spoke hurriedly every time I called her. When I told my friend. More

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