Along the edges of the tall walls, a cornucopia of food plants thrive, heavy with their bounty. When Fox sets a plate in front of me, I match the vegetables in the scramble to the ones in the garden and sigh happily. Homegrown food is always more flavorful than what grocers get. Picking up my fork, I point to the garden, then Fox, then my plate and give him my curious expression. He follows my line of questioning because we’re soulmates and he gets me even when the question isn’t one hundred percent clear. “It’s slightly safer to grow my own food.” He pauses, examining me for something. He
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