This is the next installment to the 33 words story I began for Trifecta. Popular demand (two or three readers plus my brain) demanded popularly that I write more to it. I agree 33 words limits one somewhat. So here we are:
Nemet knew that she should not try to envision life apart from the star. The star was her life. And yet, when she heard stories of the Others, those who lived outside the Keeping Complex, whose lives were so different from her own, she couldn’t help herself. Her imagination, so strongly disapproved, made its unwelcome presence felt, and she would daydream.
She wasn’t sure how, but they always knew. Arnath, the Keeper of the Keepers, would always look at her sternly and say, ‘Nemet has not been concentrating fully today,’ or something similar. They never punished her for it, but she felt uncomfortable.