He found life.
Which was ironic, to the most infinite extent. Perhaps he had finally succumbed to insanity and he was engulfed in distortion.
Perhaps he was free.
No, no, he thought. This is still real.
Because that's her.
Astonished by his newfound curiosity, he stepped gently towards her as to not disturb the elegant figure perched in the tall blades of green. She wasn't looking at him. Her radiant visage was angled so that what little rays of sunlight left in the day would shine upon her. In that instant, she drank in what she could before the shadows swallowed her for the night. What a pitiful life, he thought. But at least she still has one.
He crouched down, then reached out, overcome with the desire to caress her vibrant leaves, but hesitated. He knew that he had no ability to handle her with sufficient care. He knew that if he dared to connect with her beauty, he would just as soon ruin it.
He knew that he would hurt her.
As if the weather sensed his ominous presence, a gust of spine-chilling wind whirled past the curious pair, blowing her helpless stem towards his outstretched fingers. Caught off guard, he drew his hand back too late. The damage was done.
"Typical," he sighed aloud, watching the tip of her leaf shrivel at the touch of his innocent malignance. "I'm sorry, Daisy, I didn't mean to."
The name rolled off of his tongue like second nature. He didn't know whether or not she was truly a daisy, but Daisy seemed right for the white-petaled miracle in his desolate world.
Ironically, it was the sound of his voice that coaxed hers to life.
