She should have let go. Any sensible person would have.
The air tasted like wintergreen and rust. blake blossom freeze
In her peripheral vision, the apple blossoms on the fake trees began to crystallize. First the edges of the petals, then the stamens, then the tiny hairs on their stems—each flower turning into a small, perfect sculpture of frost. The freeze spread outward from the microphone’s stand in a slow, beautiful wave. She should have let go
The Freeze
Blake was gone.