"You have to admit that the flowers do look beautiful." He said never letting go of her hand while his other hand gestured around wanting her to take a look around.
It did work and as the sun began to take its bow, rays of yellow and orange emitted through the horizon making the flowers look even more breathtaking. He was proud that he manage to make her look around but amist looking around her eyes fell to one stop.
A group of dying wilting flowers.
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"Those flowers there are dying. Would you still find them beautiful?" She asked him with a low tone as if she was whispering to him.
"Dying or wilting doesn't make them that different. And why would you stop saying that it's no longer beautiful? Is pretty only measured by the physical traits?"
"Apparently that's how society thinks of people. And that's how society works."
"But I think you're beautiful."
"I'm broken like that flower. Dying. How can you find something that's dying beautiful?"
