They were the best of friends. Flitting amidst flowers, permitting the warm sun to toast their spotted wings, collecting nectar and pollinating slowly. Oh the beauty of wings, paper-thin and yet marvelously strong enough to withstand gusts of wind . And just before the clouds would burst, their hair would prickle, and they’d rush in a flurry to the nearest tree or giant leaf. Forces of nature- bah. Endurance ran through their veins
A little girl ran through the garden, giggling as she chased butterflies. Time had grown her bones and built her swiftness. Tip-toeing slowly she made towards the oblivious pair sitting on a freshly bloomed, pink hibiscus.
It happened in a fraction- cupped and crushed. Gone from the light. Ripped. Extinguished by fingers.