November 19, 2019
A mountainside filled with different-colored flowers. Breeze. Sound of birds—flutter of wings, the beginning of a song. She lays down on the grass and feels years of regret seep out upwards. To the sky. Butterflies fly ahead, as if saying "We got these. Don't worry your little head." She looks to the left and sees his outline. This is a familiar sight. She dreamed of this moment every day, even now that it's a reality she dreams of it. This is how you know you're happy. The setting sun seems to be whispering to her. Peace of mind.