Lyle stopped walking. Without a word, he stepped beside a bed of wildflowers blooming near the path, reached down, and plucked a single one — soft and full and white.
He gently took off Ephyra's hat and pinned the flower into her hair.
Then his voice, low and certain: "You look beautiful, Ephyra."
Ephyra giggled, lifting a hand to touch the flower. "Thank you. You look handsome too." She frowned with theatrical drama. "It's just such a pity that it'll wither."
But then her eyes lit up as an idea struck. She reached into her tote and pulled out her phone.
"Wait, I'll save it forever," she said brightly, already snapping pictures of the flower.
Then she leaned against Lyle and caught a selfie — his surprised expression frozen perfectly next to her beaming grin.
She laughed out loud. But when she leaned forward a bit too quickly, the flower dislodged from her hair and fluttered to the ground.
"Oh—"
