As I was walking up the hill one day, fretting and sad, I passed these flowers in front of a house. I stood for a long time, feeling the soft petals between my fingers, letting the beauty fill me up and give me hope.
I picked one of the flowers to take home with me, but after a few days pressed between the pages of a thick book, the color had all washed out, and the brilliant orange crushed silk had turned to light pink. I didn't mind. Some things you can't keep.
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