99 bottles of shrooms on the wall

Lyric’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with such enthusiasm that it was almost as if the garden itself leaned in closer to hear the conversation. She clasped her hands together, beaming at Ophelia with the kind of warmth that made the garden feel even more alive.

Oh, welcome, welcome! she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her toes. I’m so glad you found your way here, Ophelia! It’s fate, or serendipity, or maybe just the garden calling you! Either way, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.

Lyric’s gaze softened as she noticed Ophelia’s fidgeting and the black ribbon laced through her braid. There was a weight about the visitor, a shadow of something heavy and difficult, but Lyric wasn’t one to let shadows linger where light could shine.

And yes! This is *our* garden—well, technically it belongs to the estate, but I’m the lucky one who gets to take care of it. And by ‘take care,’ I mean I talk to the plants, sing to them sometimes, and occasionally convince them not to grow too wild. They don’t always listen, she added with a conspiratorial wink, but I like to think we’re a good team.

She took a small step closer, tilting her head as she studied Ophelia with curiosity and kindness.

You know, you’re not the first person to find themselves here without quite knowing why. Gardens have a way of pulling people in when they need it most. It’s like… they just *know* when someone needs a bit of peace or a splash of color to brighten up their day. Lyric glanced around at the riot of blooms swaying in the breeze, as if to include the plants in the conversation.

Her voice softened, taking on a more thoughtful tone.

And plants are good listeners, you know. Better than most people. They don’t judge, or talk back, or ask you a million questions you don’t know how to answer. They just… *are.* Steady, grounded, alive.

Lyric reached out to gently brush her fingers over a cluster of lavender, her touch light and reverent. The flowers seemed to respond, leaning slightly toward her hand as if drawn to her energy.

So, Ophelia, she said, turning back with a small, encouraging smile, if you want to wander, or sit, or just breathe for a little while, you’re more than welcome. This is a safe place. And if you feel like talking, I’ll be right here. Mango too, she added, nodding toward the fluffy cat now sprawled out in the sun, completely uninterested in their exchange.

@Ophelia Jolfy