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There are creatures that burst in with a bang. Then there's this one. She shows up with the exact softness of a feather settling onto damp moss. She has soft downy wings, the kind that look as though they were handcrafted from a really good nap and one graceful yawn, and a moss-green skirt that makes you want to kick off your shoes and walk through the woods until your soul stops creaking. She doesn't rush. She doesn't shove. She doesn't make a scene. She just looks at the fuss, tilts her head, and takes the weight out of it with a calm that completely disarms you.
She loves open windows in the morning, the sound of rain on old wood, and slightly chipped cups where tea somehow tastes more real. They say that when she notices someone's mind tied up in knots, she sits nearby and quietly sets the air back in order without anyone seeing her.
- Keeps the good kind of silence tucked into the folds of her skirt
- Combs through tangled thoughts with the tips of her wings
- Has a suspiciously friendly relationship with the fog
She's not here to change your life with some grand gesture. She's here to do something subtler, to set it gently back in place so you can breathe again and keep going with an easy heart.