Lavi’s eyes are closed and he is sitting crossed legged in the middle of the garden. He is concentrating hard, his posture straight. His shirtless torso is visible under the scorching sun. Beads of sweat roll down his skin, his abs glistening in the light. The bulging muscles are tense as if rigid and still. The breeze slowly swirls around him in a fixed rhythm. He slightly turns his head to the right and the wind blows in that direction. Then he tilts to the left, taking the wind in the opposite route. A gentle whirlwind of wind starts to form in front of him, spinning like a small tornado but fixed to one place. He is about to multiply the intensity of the win when the familiar scent of cocoa comes his way. Suddenly, the wind stops and vanishes, leaving him there. Even though she is far away, he can still smell her.
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