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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.
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