“I want to kiss you.”
“You shouldn’t,” The Lily bowed its head. Its petals drooped over its face.
“Nobody would kiss me anyway,” Merlin curled her body, her back barely touching The Lily’s stem. The Lily’s leaves shaded Merlin’s body from the sun. Her mousy hair flowed over the damp grass she lay on. The Lily gave no response.
“Maybe if I was pretty,” Merlin drew in a breath and kept it inside her tiny lungs for a moment. “If I was pretty, I would belong to someone.” As she felt its tepidness against her, Merlin wished The Lily were warmer.
“You belong to yourself.” The Lily spoke in a quiet voice. It raised itself slightly.
Merlin gave no response. She plucked a sliver of grass from the ground and smoothed it in between her fingers. The bubbling from the creek they lay beside seemed to grow more distant. Merlin sat up, separating herself from The Lily’s touch. She sat for a moment. Then she stood up, extending her legs and stretching her arms above her head. She stood by the creek, hesitated, and stepped fully into it, the frigid water rushing past her ankles and the stones slippery underneath her feet. The thought echoed through her skull: Why belong to yourself if you have nobody to share the belonging with?