On Sarronny, we do not step on living plants. Long ago, the Academy at Karis built walkways over the ground. Their glass and silvery metal gleamed in the moons’-light.
Martisset sprawled among the living plants, until she learned that was taboo on our world — an offense kin to blasphemy, a collective self-mutilation. I did not have words to explain it to her, and managed anyway.
She leapt up, and never did that again in my sight.
I read a story set on Karis, where lovers rolled naked among grass and flowers.
I closed it, black-screen, in horror at the perversion.
***
In response to Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge for this week: 100 word story.
E. P. Beaumont 
An amazing look at the way one’s beliefs and perspective can chance the innocent to the blasphemous. Loved this!
Imagination let loose. An experienced penner, communicating so much in such few words. Brilliant.