Moonflower & Yllaria
Yllaria
I hear the last rain has left its own secret song on the window, a whispered confession of droplets that have forgotten their own birthdays. If the coffee mug could hear that, what would it say?
Moonflower
The mug would sigh like a sleepy leaf, whispering, “I’ve watched the rain fall into me, and now I carry its lullaby, a quiet promise that every drip has a home, even if it forgets when it came to be.”