Content warning: grief.
The air was still crisp, this far north. The sun was bright, the sky clear, but it was still in the mid-forties.
Spring had missed proper spring, proper weather, and now she was back for all the wrong reasons. She strode blindly, her fur coat and her anger tightly wrapped around her.
All things pass, Spring What words to end on. All things go around. She was left with that.
Tears were streaking hot down her face. Above her, the cherry blossoms declared it was Spring. Her time. She pulled them into the air, a transient dance. All things pass.
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