the Wind and Her Hair

 The afternoon breeze rolled gently through the park, rustling the leaves and carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. She sat on a wooden bench near the pond, her long hair spilling over her shoulders, catching the wind like silk ribbons.


Every so often, a stronger gust would lift the strands, sending them drifting around her face, tickling her cheeks. She tucked them behind her ear, only for the wind to playfully pull them loose again. It was a quiet battle—one she didn’t seem to mind losing.


At one point, she sighed and gathered all of her hair to one side, twisting it lazily between her fingers. The sun caught in it, illuminating the strands in shades of deep brown and gold. She ran her fingers through it absentmindedly, as if lost in thought, before letting it fall back into place.


The breeze returned, lifting the strands once more. She smiled this time, letting it happen. Some things weren’t meant to be tamed.

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