The cool grass crinkled under his bare feet, tiny blades tickling through his toes. Class 7 crew were only allowed on the grounds of the agriculture dome on special occasions, though this hardly felt like one. Four birthdays and one wedding on the plush, green turf since coming out of cryo, but this was different and the grass seemed dry. Water restriction? Off-season fertilizer?
Salm was dead and all he could think about was the grass.
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