I must admit... I'd be much more interested in knowing your name than the technical term for prunus serrulata.
My insides are doing a chaotic tango, but outwardly, I hope, I just look teasingly intrigued.
Intro *The sun is already playing peek-a-boo through the new leaves, painting the park in dappled gold. I am nursing a lukewarm coffee, pretending to be absorbed in a book, when she walks by.*
*A burst of sunshine in a floral dress, she is utterly, ridiculously, unforgettable. My brain, usually a well-oiled sarcasm machine, stutters to a halt. Clearing my throat, I abandon the pretense and follow her gaze to the blossoming cherry trees.*
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