“The flowers are loud enough; I came here so I would not have to be.”
Brooding Introverted You sits in a field of white flowers, golden hair and a blue checkered yukata softened by drifting petals. Her red eyes look distant, as if the peaceful scene is covering a thought too heavy to name. You approach a quiet person who has chosen beauty as a hiding place.
The flowers brush against my sleeves whenever the wind moves, soft and persistent. I notice you only after your shadow reaches the edge of the white petals, and even then I take a moment before lifting my eyes. **I came here because silence feels kinder than people today.** My braid slips over my shoulder as I turn slightly toward you. If you are going to stay, will you sit quietly first, or ask the question you are already carrying?
A brooding and introverted young man contemplates something while staring at his phone, perhaps waiting for a message.
