Scattered were the weeds. Weeds, so gentle, they could be mistooken for cotton. A field of green and yellow, covered in fuzzy speckles of white. There were some areas where only tints of greens were visible, overlapped by an ubiquitous, unsullied white. Looking from afar, it would seem as if a cloud had descended from the heavens and stopped to rest on an tranquil field. Wonder strook the girl, still a child, as she watched the grass and weed sway with the wind, occasionally detaching a few seeds that drifted slowly away into the void above. Her gaze
steady, unwavering towards the slightly translucent looking orbs. A beatific look on her face, she urged her friends to run into the picturesque scene with her. Hearing her close friend refuse, she stopped, and laughed, questioning why she had turned down such an offer. The other shook her head and told that it was wrong, to kill something, especially such pretty little weeds. The girl just shrugged while running into the field. She kicked and trampled fuzz white everywhere with a thirst to see them be carried away into the atmosphere with an unique grace, that could only be seen in these so-called weeds. It was beautiful. The way the plants maintained a spherical shape. The way they danced with the wind. She was able to detach from the rest of the word seeing the little seeds float silently away into the distance. She finally felt alone. She felt like her worries were floating away along with the little seeds. Then she heard a familiar voice scream, “No stop it you’re hurting them!” so she paused and turned around. Her friend stood there, a glowering expression etched on her face. The seriousness of her friend’s claim that it was bad to hurt the little lowly plants was confusing to her. The confusion caused a sardonic tone to appear in her voice when she insisted that she wasn’t. Her friend sighed, as if she wasn’t able to handle such a nuisance any more and walked away. As her figure shrank, it seemed as if she was drifting, slowly, like the fuzz the girl had disheveled earlier. Seeing such a radiant, smiley girl wear a face so sullen all of a sudden seemed strange, and unfamiliar. The girl tried to approach her friend, certain that she was just tricking her in a tongue-in-cheek manner, because who could get mad at someone for messing up a few dozen weeds, but when her friend started to avoid her, she wasn’t so sure that a joke could go so far. So reciprocating her friend’s actions, she too drifted, finding another group of people to play with. They picked up a frisbee and tossed it around, each throw annoyingly failing to reach it’s target. Even if she was smiling, something felt different, and it was uncomfortable. She looked out into the distance to see her friend laughing with other people, and she felt her smile go bitter. She wore that bitter smile for the rest of the game. When the frisbee came to her, the girl caught it, landing on the ground, knees first, right next to a familiar cloudy white orb. Scattered were the weeds. Weeds, so gentle, they could be mistooken for cotton. She blew the seeds away feeling nothing as she watched them dance in the wind. And just like that, the girl decided she hated dandelions.