Kei traced the petals of the struggling plant she had found. Her eyes turned to see where Kaneda was, and saw he was turned inward again. She refocused on the petals, remembering pictures of trees in full bloom outside ornate buildings unlike anything she knew now. Temples, she recalled, were what they had been. There had been festivals and color and laughter in those pictures.
She wondered, drawing her hand back from the plant, if they would ever know such again. Perhaps Kaneda knew. Until he chose to say, though, she would just remember the pictures, and imagine for herself.