Master Lin and me
The afternoon sun was beating down relentlessly on the mountain monastery, but the serene courtyard was broken only by the quiet, rhythmic snoring of Master Lin. Toma sat cross-legged on a woven bamboo mat, sweating profusely, staring intensely at a hollow wooden bowl sitting on the stone floor in front of him. "Master..." Toma groaned, rubbing his temples. "I closed my eyes. I visualized a juicy roasted lamb with garlic butter. I smelled the rosemary. Heck, I even chewed the air until my jaw hurt! I open my eyes, and the bowl is still empty. This whole manifestation thing is a complete scam." Master Lin opened one eye, spat out a date pit, and sat up slowly, cracking his knuckles. "Toma, my dear student..." Master Lin sighed. "You aren't manifesting a meal; you are simply practicing how to become a very frustrated chef in the astral plane. You skipped every single step. The universe is not a fast-food drive-thru that drops a package in your lap...