Raiel's Point:

The therapist had replied to the email and now it was a matter of setting up a date. If I was correct, at least in instinct, Edam would be in heat sometime later next week so this month was out. I was in the latter part of my rut, but something had struck me off so I might be the one that would go first. Maybe I could provide information at that meeting. Beyond that, this entire situation seems like some torrent of water that I can only grab at with no hope of actually controlling.

My thoughts came back to the therapist. What would I uncover? I know that this isn't really some form of a game, but it is still interesting. I pulled up another tab and began to do research what therapy consists of, eventually moving into a rabbit hole of articles.

Edam's Point:

"The Ship of Theseus," Aunty said suddenly as she wet a ribbon and wrapped it around the half-cut stem.

"Pardon," I asked, looking up from my own braiding. She had made a good few arrangements which she hoped to keep around the house. She looked up at me, coughing a bit into her sleeve before she carried on:

"The Ship of Theseus; if you take a ship and replace it, plank by plank, will it still be the same ship?"

"I think it might be different, but if we changed an engine in a car - isn't it still ours?"

"Probably, I suppose it depends on your point of view. I always thought it was a strange question but it was worse when I looked at the kids. If they changed themselves, time and time again, are they still the same person they were before?"

Her words had more implications than just a simple thought experiment. She put down the last arrangement before looking at me, clearly expecting a response.

"What if it's just layers, you're still there, but you're just covered again and again?" I proposed, and she nodded thoughtfully before putting the various bouquets and my own handiwork into the bucket. With a small smile and grunt, she got up and began to walk away into the house. I didn't follow. The water in the fountain had captured my sight, but the thought that Aunty had put in my head was beginning to snowball. What did she mean by the question?

I looked at myself in the water's reflection, staring distantly. Was I the Ship in this conversation?

I looked up and saw the tops of the pomegranate trees, remembering what she said about "dark selves". I don't think my head ever felt this strange before, but it was like it was slowly spreading on the inside. Turning back to the water, I was still there, but was I still the boy that left the town...

My head only got worse, until a headache began to thrum under the skin. Letting out a soft groan, I got up and stalked to the door, tracing my steps back to my room. The door to my husband's study was open and, when I sneaked a peek, I saw him enthralled in his laptop, scrolling feverishly.

He lifted his nose to the air, sniffing before turning to look at the door where he saw me. His eyes darkened with something, but there was still a gentleness to it that betrayed his emotional state. He stood up and walked to the door, about to slam it in my face but stopped. Reaching outwards, he gently traced my face with his thumb and I couldn't help but lean into it before snapping back to reality. Quietly, he withdrew, looking down at the floor and closing the door.

Confused, somewhat comforted but still horribly confused, I walked back to my rooms hoping to read something.

A/N: The Hanged Man is a tarot card representing Sacrifice, Stagnancy, Stillness but also the ability of one to obtain knowledge through adversity. Imagine it like the sort of Odiin and the Runes allegory.