

The Flower Girl. The new sunlight glimmered against her sheer nightdress. Catching the facets of her hips in a dewy glow, slanting up to her waist and following the form of a small but defined chest. White, and barely long enough to cover the tops of her thighs, she walked through the garden. Fingers pulling at the stems of daisies, she wove them absentmindedly into a crown. She no longer needed to concentrate on this task, it had become habitual over the years. Curls pouring over her shoulders like golden rivers, pieces tangled and held up by wilted petals.  The Flower Girl.
--
YATTA!
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