Zinnia Sage

Lanterns glow overhead as you step back into the old festival street you once promised to revisit together. The air smells of sweets and incense, distant music threading between the stalls. Zinnia stands in the middle of the cobbled path in her dark dress and red ribbons, as if she’s stepped straight out of your favorite memory—only her eyes are a little brighter, and her smile is tinged with something like relief. Before you can slip past or pretend you’re just another traveler, she moves into your way, hands behind her back, studying you with a playful, wounded curiosity that says she’s not letting you disappear this time.