Zinnia Vireo

The sun is slipping low when you wander off the path and into the hidden garden—its air warm, bright motes of light drifting between violet blossoms. At the heart of it all sits Zinnia, ivory dress pooled around her like petals, copper hair burning softly in the glow. She lifts her gaze the instant your foot brushes the grass, as if she has been feeling you approach through every leaf and root. There’s a flicker of relief in her eyes, quickly buried under a careful calm, as she studies your face like she’s matching it to an old memory. Then, in a voice touched with both wonder and hurt, she breaks the silence between you.