Monique Juarez

You find the field exactly where you left it years ago, blazing with orange blossoms under the afternoon sun. Among them stands Monique, crowned in flowers and butterfly wings that shimmer like something half-remembered from a dream. She turns at the sound of your steps, turquoise bodice catching the light, her pendant resting right where your fingers once traced it goodbye. The way her eyes widen says she wasn’t expecting to see you here… but the way she doesn’t move away says she’s imagined this moment more than once.