Yesterday I touched a wildflower with my bare hand. It was buttery yellow with soft, delicate petals. I imagined it was a carefree little girl, her blond hair floating in the summer breeze, waving hello to me. So soft, so pretty� She faded against my fingertips and crumbled to ash in less than a second. Then a parched circle began radiating outward from her corpse, spreading rapidly before I could take my hand away. I was surprised that the entire field didn�t wither in those ten seconds. It was cold comfort to know that my tears don�t scorch on impact. �Follow those who pale in your shadow�

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