Back Inside.

The tree stood in the middle of the field. Light passed through its leaves, drawing their shapes on the ground.

She sat beneath it, reading somewhere between a dream and a memory. The house was far away, the sky blue, and the sound of cicadas filled the air on that summer day.

It was not too warm and not too humid, even though it was the middle of the day.

The book began to change, becoming instructions. Barely readable, yet somehow she understood them—diagrams, shapes, and figures.

She tucked the book under her arm and started climbing the tree. Light filtering through the leaves touched her skin softly as she went up.

Halfway up, she saw a fruit hanging there, illuminated by a single ray of light. She grabbed it and took a bite.

Suddenly, she could feel her pulse—her heart beating, every breath she took.

She took another bite and felt her eyes change color. She rubbed them with her hands and looked toward the top of the tree.

Beyond the leaves and branches, there was a door with a lock.

As she kept climbing, she could feel the pulse of the tree, and her eyes continued to shift in color.

By mistake, she grabbed one of the rays of light passing through the leaves. Instead of climbing by the branches, she began to use the light itself.

A layer of yellow spread over her hands, like pollen.

By the time she reached the door, her hands were glowing, as if she were wearing gloves made of light.

She grabbed the lock, and it began to melt. Red-hot iron dripped to the ground as she held it.

She pushed the door open and had to cover her eyes from the brightness inside. As she slowly opened them again, she felt her body coated in the tree’s light-pollen and began to wake up, slowly.