Fa, reading K's reply as something coy, chuckled and gave her another squeeze. She was content as well to hold the shorter woman for a while, though eventually she remoulded her little vestibule into a more welcoming abode. A swing chair on a sun-dappled veranda fronting a boundless field of varicoloured flowers. From here K could stare out at the twinkling of a river in the distance, if she wanted, and the giant sagging front of willows beyond it, their veil a decided metaphor wall of Fa's extremely tiny domain. She hadn't figured out the trick to creating a looping space; not that she needed one, often passing as just herself within a segregated space for the dead.

Settling on the cushions of the chair, Fa patted the seat next to her and said, "if it makes you feel any better, I was going through the memories that I had buried in here," she clasped her hand to her chest briefly, "and I am happy that I got to feel that experience. I've always wanted to know what it might be like to be out there."