The Pollen Memory
## The Pollen Memory The rust-colored dust tasted like regret. Old man Hemlock swore it held the flavor of every failed harvest, every lost face in Respite. I didn’t taste faces, just grit on my tongue and the metallic tang…
scifi
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Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The grit tasted like static. Kai blinked, trying to force focus, but the starmapper interface still fractured across his vision. Each shard pulsed with false data – system habitability reports blurring into nebulae, planetary assessments dissolving like…