The little red flame beckons you, like a promising rose doomed to wilt, alluring in its symbology and the tacky veneer of potential. The little red flame brightens, and you’re reminded of a moth. Quickly you swat the thought away, and grinning in anticipation, tap the app to life. You look once over your shoulder, twice, then three times. You start to relax.
Aloha from the Garden Island. I’m writing from my tiny studio looking at lush green fields, listening to beautiful birds singing all around and the sound of breaking waves in the ocean that’s 200m away from my door; all the while laughing at the royal-looking rooster that’s bullying every chicken that comes his way.