Sunday six

Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.

Bolin levers the top open and lifts out a small tree in a green clay pot; its leaves are round and fleshy, like little discs.

Asami's first unworthy thought is another thing to take care of, but if Air Temple Island has ten thousand trees on it, her apartment might have one. The memories of that place, good and bad, aren't ones she wants to let go of yet. "It's lovely."

"It's a money tree," says Bolin. "Because, see, the leaves look kind of like silver yuans, and they say if you have one in your house then oh no Asami please don't cry."

I should really finish this fic before it gets jossed by book 2! Failing that, I suppose I could just post the section with Asami and Bolin, which will leave it looking like Asami/Bolin or at least pre-Asami/Bolin which wasn't my original intention, but there are still good bits in it.