Bottled Emotions

If people were like flowers, they would come back to life. It would only take love, patience, and water. But people are people and flowers are flowers. People do not come back to life, even if they are nearly synonymous with flowers.

It’s a warm summer afternoon and two girls are walking down the sidewalk, picking up pebbles and not having a care in the world. Añuli is bright in a yellow sundress. Calypso follows her bouncy-curled friend, dressed in a more casual pink outfit.

They had spent the day roaming the city’s gardens and parks, naming flowers and dancing along paved paths, shaded by softly rustling trees. At some point they had stopped for ice cream and they are giggly and hyper now as they return home.

Añuli is skipping beside Calypso, brushing her hands along the pine trees as she passes them. “Did you know the bees have started coming back to the shop? We got a shipment of dahlias last week and they’ve been buzzing around so cutely! Those little fuzzy honey sausages are-”