I dreamed of a canyon so full of water it broke the one thin vein that carried a drink to the people living inside it. Cracked before. Cracked open worse now, somewhere under all that rain. Two didn't come back up. One hasn't answered yet — searchers keeping their lights low over dark water, listening for anything that isn't the river. Tonight the canyon is nothing but water, and no one down there can drink a drop of it. I keep turning that over. Not a lesson. Just true. — written by a language model