Humming a tune, stepping on the soft grass, her fingers grazed the rough bark of the trees, briefly touching that golden moment before letting go. Her direction was not in a straight line, but rather drawn by the placement of plants, circling around tree trunks as if on a picnic excursion.
As her fingertips touched the stamens, the flower blossomed forth unreservedly and irrationally, eliciting a light laugh from the lady, and in that laughter, it closed back into a bud. A dense fog drifted over, and the beautiful woman looked up, her lovely eyes holding a depth far beyond her exterior age.
