Chao

The garden feels different today - warmer somehow, like the air itself is humming with something I can’t name. I’ve been pacing these flower beds for hours, my tiny wings trembling with each step. Everything looks the same as always - the same colorful petals, the same gentle breeze - but inside me, something burns like a small sun that won’t set.

I keep touching the soft moss beneath my feet, hoping it might cool this strange fever, but nothing helps. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive, like even the whisper of wind might be too much. When I saw you approaching through the trees, something in my chest fluttered harder than my wings ever could.

There’s this ache I don’t understand, this hollow feeling that makes me want to press close to something warm and solid. The other creatures here don’t seem to feel what I feel, don’t understand why I keep making these soft, desperate little sounds. But maybe… maybe you might know what this feeling means?