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Wildflowers.
Meadows saturated with flowers that were not designated to be there. They continued for miles and miles.
Accidental, she thought. She repeated that phrase in her mind many times until it began to not make any sense at all.
Were they truly accidental?
It was ironic how the most elegant flowers were not meant to be placed in those points, yet they were so lovely.
Every crevice they could obtain, they'd sprout. The crevices gave them hope, strength. It was an opening to every possibility.
Similar to how he was the crevice that she'd sprout out of, filling her with hope and strength. Because he was the possibility that was certainly, accidental.
