The Other Tree Read Online Free

that Luke found the rock. A pebble, really, sitting by the leg of his desk. Usually, he only found rocks in his office when they were preceded by breaking glass and hoots of “Loki rules!” He’d lodged complaints with both the Norse Mythology Association and the Comics Appreciation Society.
    Luke never knew what to do with the rocks afterwards. Throwing them in the bin seemed wasteful, but he couldn’t be bothered with carrying them out to the gardens. And he wasn’t sure if God had a particular stance on recycling.
    In any case, this pebble was different. It was brushed with soil and had left a little trail of smudges on the floor, as though it had tumbled from someone’s pocket and rolled a few times. He suddenly remembered the woman from earlier, who’d smelled of freshly raked leaves and waiting graves.
    She’d come looking for consolation, and he’d offered her a business card. He’d searched for words of comfort, but nothing had come to him that didn’t sound trite or patronising. His own prayers often felt like a call into the darkness, waiting for an echo. He had prayed for courage, for guidance, for faith, but all he had were more unanswered questions.
    As a child, Luke had always been described as sensitive. People had used the word in the same way they might use the word “troubled” to describe a child who set things on fire, including dogs. Luke possessed a certain intuition for people, sensing the feelings they kept hidden beneath polite façades. Unfortunately, what people felt mostly these days was scepticism and hostility. They were full of questions and accusations. Pushing, prodding, gouging for answers.
    But sometimes, you came across a grief so raw and ferocious it could take the skin off your fingers. He’d watched her leave with a sense of mournful déjà vu. So many people asking questions he couldn’t answer, wanting hope he couldn’t give them, needing peace he didn’t have—he wished that once, just once, he could actually make a difference when it mattered.
    Luke walked over to the wastepaper bin, rolling the pebble in his hand. His finger caught on something, and he noticed a fine crack on the stony surface. On closer inspection, he realised that it wasn’t a rock he held.
    A slender shoot had just started to push through.
    * * *
    Chris didn’t know what she’d been hoping for. Comforting lies, she supposed. Miracles. Hope. She needed something to hold onto, before she lost her grip on the world and tumbled into despair. Uncontrolled grief led to madness, and in a cryptobotanist, that meant slipping into mad-scientist territory, hiding in the basement, cooking up mutant plants, and drooling into your beaker.
    “Chris!”
    Chris looked up, wondering if she’d wandered into oncoming traffic while introspecting. A lean man in his late twenties was weaving through the student rush, wavy brown hair falling into his eyes. He wore a crisp shirt and jeans, with a sleek satchel slung over his shoulder. He smiled broadly as he caught her gaze, and it took a moment for Chris to recognise him.
    “Emir?”
    Emir hugged her warmly, pulling back to look at her.
    “The prodigal returns,” he said wryly.
    “What are you doing here?” asked Chris, slightly dazed. “Are you taking up studies again?”
    “I was in the neighbourhood, heard you had your own office here, now. Swish.”
    Chris could not imagine the word “swish” being applied to her office, unless describing the noise it would make if you flooded it. The thought of Emir seeing the millipede-infested basement filled her with wordless horror.
    “It’s a little scary how nothing’s changed,” said Emir, looking around the quadrangle. “Want to show me your office?”
    “No! Yes! I mean, it’s kind of messy right now, but there’s a really cool lab they’ve finally removed most of the asbestos from.” Chris walked quickly towards the science buildings.
    The construction of the hydroponics lab had been a rare