Syd knew the architecture of stars, the upside-downness of words, the inside-outness of the heart. All his life, they called him weird. All his life, he tried but couldn’t change that.
Then, on a bus he met Sammi, talking to her flowers. Each day, he sat closer. One day, she gave him a flower, whispering their language to him. For her, he ventured far from the shores of his solitude. On the beach, he hummed the music of crazy love, watching waves shimmy and fret, come and go.
Syd’s galaxy shifted. ‘Weird’ stopped mattering when she said ‘yes’ to him, petal-soft.