Here's a glimpse of my other reality.
[Tishra and Anon#1's Home]
Walls of rough-hewn oak and a soft white sand floor covered by a tasseled cotton rug enclose this room. In one corner lies a large birch canopy bed, and near the bed sits a sturdy oak table. Above a fanciful shell-lined fireplace hangs a portrait of two young lovers dancing in a field of grain. The room holds a mild scent of garden sweet pea and jasmine. Above an intricately fashioned fireplace sits a mantle covered with small framed paintings. You also see an antique rocking chair, a plush loveseat and a comfortable couch with a pile of books stacked on an end table.
Also here: Anon#1 friend.
>
Anon#1's friend takes a silver-framed portrait from the mantle.
>
Anon#1's friend offers you a silver-framed portrait.
>
>You accept.
>
>look portrait
>
>A fashionably dressed young man stands perpetually grinning as he holds a beautiful bride in his arms. Her head is tilted backwards with an obvious laugh escaping her lips, as if never expecting the man to lift her off the ground. A gorgeous bouquet of flowers remains in her left hand as she reaches up with her right to tug at his bow tie. Glancing down at the portrait, you can almost hear the laughter of the newlyweds.
>
>sniff
>
You sniffle, wiping a stray tear from your eye.
>
Anon#1's Friend says softly, "Anon#1, open the back."
>
>open my port
You fiddle with the back of the portrait, turning knobs that hold the backing in place. The knobs are tough to turn, and as you almost give up, they give way and the back slowly comes off. There appears to be wording on the back of the canvas.
>
>rea my port
>
>In spectacularly written calligraphy are the words, "Anon#1, I will forever love you. You are my love, my world, my best friend and my soul mate. Forever yours, Tishra."
>
Anon#1's friend reaches over and lightly touches your arm. He leans on the mantle with his head turned away and says apologetically, "I was going through some things. She said to have you open the portrait should she not show in the lands. Forgive me for reading it. I wanted to know..."
>
Anon#1's friend pauses.
>
Anon#1's friend says softly, "That it wouldn't hurt so bad if the worst happened."
>
You hug Anon#1's Friend, the scent of battle arising from his rigid leather armor. The feel of his embrace is comforting. He draws you in closer and pats a solid hand against your back. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he looks at you and says, "It's going to be alright. Hang in there."
>
Anon#1's Friend raises his hands, gesturing as sigils of sparkling golden lights begin to fill the room. The faint image of a beautiful young woman begins to take shape and illuminates the home. As the sigils and accompanying glittering dust fill the home, you suddenly notice that Anon#1's Friend is gone, leaving behind faintly glowing golden footprints on the floor.
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Golden Teacher Liquid Culture For Sale 
Spores for European Microscopy 
Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order 
Injection Grain Bag
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