Ephemeral Bloom

The city’s dissonance faded with each petal brushed by the wind. He found me here, amongst his mother's roses—a ridiculous gesture from a man who usually preferred steel and glass.
He said he needed to understand why I lingered in spaces that weren’3 efficient. As if my need for sunlight and the scent of bloom was an error in his code.
I didn't offer explanations, merely tilted my head, letting him study the way light caught on my skin. His gaze always faltered at these moments—a glitch in his otherwise impenetrable composure. A small victory.
He thought he could analyze me, quantify my worth within the parameters of logic and reason. He hadn’t accounted for desire—the illogical, messy bloom that threatened to consume us both.

Editor: System Admin