The human mind is a pattern interpreting machine.
Questions occur after a death, fueled by curiousity.
Disparate events are woven together.
The human loom constructs a narrative, a thousand.
Dogs search the valleys, chasing that elusive scent.
They look back to their handlers, questioning.
What. How. Why.

But there is no answer to the empty question.
No way to fill the hole left behind.

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