Byredo Perfums, Inflorescence
Maggie clutched her bouquet of fresh-cut wild flowers, bound with simple cream chiffon. The earth had only recently thawed from winter’s wrath and everywhere you looked was blooming. She raised the spray of blossoms to her face, inhaled deeply, and lowering her eyes willed herself to commit every moment to memory. When she opened them, he was standing at the end of the shimmering lawn. She could swear he was glistening like everything else in the dew of dawn. She fluttered her eyelids and imagined the click click click of a camera shutter. Every second a snapshot. She clenched her eyes shut one last time and felt a smile overtake her face. Her jaw trembled slightly. Her mother’s slim manicured fingers lowered the veil, tickling her cheeks. Maggie locked arms with her father and rested her head on his shoulder. At the first notes of Paul’s Maybe I’m Amazed they took their first and last steps as father and daughter.