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I suppose that's why something that always gets me is the running away concept. It's so peak. Like, that last-bus energy, where the night feels endless and heavy, but there’s still this electric charge of possibility. It’s not even about where they’re running to—just the idea of leaving everything behind for a little thrill, a little adventure. It's about that moment of freedom, even if it’s reckless or doomed. Like two weirdos with nothing left to lose, sharing headphones as the city lights blur behind them, feeling like the whole world is falling apart but they’re still here, together.

There’s something so nostalgic about it, that mix of desperation and freedom. It’s the kind of thing that makes your chest hurt in the best way. And it stays with you because we long for that. That feeling of throwing everything away, not to chase something grand, but just to be—somewhere, anywhere, with someone who gets it.

So anyways, imagine this: two weirdos, the kind of people who don’t even fit into the misfit archetype. They’re just off—like, the type who eat their cereal with a fork because they think it’s more efficient, or who tape their broken glasses together instead of buying new ones because “it adds character.” But they're common, average. They don’t apologize for it, but they don’t exactly thrive, either. Just two people orbiting the edges of everything, invisible in plain sight.

Now it’s late—the whole sleepy town is painted in blue hues. They’re sitting on the curb at a dead gas station, a flickering "Open" sign buzzing like it’s on its last breath. A half-full Slurpee sits between them, and there’s this unspoken pact in the silence. One of them pulls out a crumpled map they grabbed from a thrift store for fifty cents. “What if we just left?” they say, tracing some faraway place with their finger.

The other laughs, a sound that comes out more like a cough. “We don’t have money. Or a car.”

“There’s always the bus.”

Bruh, like this is perfection.

Or or or imagine: The bus was late. They had been sitting on the cracked curb for twenty minutes, the kind of seat that made legs go numb, but neither of them cared. The streetlights flickered, and the air smelled faintly of hot asphalt and stale fast food. It was that liminal time of night when everything felt too quiet, as though the world was holding its breath.

Next to them, the other was fiddling with a beat-up lighter, one of those cheap ones with a sticker half-peeled off. They weren’t even lighting anything, just clicking it on and off, as if the sparks alone were enough to keep them grounded.

“You think it’ll even show?” The words came out low, like they were afraid the dark might overhear.

A shrug. “Probably not. But what else are we doing?”

The laugh that followed wasn’t loud, more of a snort, the kind that slipped out when someone was trying not to let go completely. “Yeah. Guess it doesn’t matter.”

The street ahead stretched into nothingness, a road that seemed like it could go on forever if they let it. And honestly? Maybe that was the plan. No real destination, just movement.

“Think we’ll make it?” The question came after a long silence.

“To where?”

A pause, as though they were weighing the risk of saying it out loud. “Anywhere better than here.”

The other was about to respond but stopped when the first added, “You ever notice how shows or movies or whatever turn people like us into assholes? Like, anyone misunderstood has to be some tortured genius or completely unhinged. And sure, nothing wrong with that, but it’s like they forget most people are just… losers. Regular-ass weirdos who don’t act like that at all.”

“Yeah.” A long stare down the road. “It’s insufferable sometimes. Like, we exist, you know? Just being.”

They nodded, biting their lip. “Guess that’s why we’re running. No one expects anything from us out there.”

There wasn’t much left to say. One leaned back, looking up at the sky, where the stars were barely visible through the haze. It was stupidly beautiful, in a way that defied explanation, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Just the two of them, suspended in a world that was too big and too empty.

Then came the low groan of an engine. The bus finally pulled up, its headlights cutting through the night. One of them stood, already gripping the strap of their bag like it was the only thing keeping them tethered to reality.

“You ready?” The question hung in the air, even though the answer didn’t matter.

“Yeah.” And together, they stepped onto the bus, into whatever came next.

The boy shrugged. “Valentine’s Day prices.” His tone was indifferent, the transaction nothing but a routine chore. He didn’t look like someone who could afford such a splurge himself, but he seemed immune to the absurdity of it all. Cerys envied his detachment. Humans were usually so messy.

Still, she muttered, “Ridiculous. It’s a rip-off.”

“That’s the holiday for you,” the cashier boy replied, his hand reaching under the desk. “Bag?”

“Just give it,” Cerys said with a sigh. It was all too fitting for a time that seemed to thrive on exaggerated gestures and inflated prices.

As the cashier boy dropped in the last item, Cerys snatched the bag, slapping a Benjamin onto the counter. By the time he looked up, she was already halfway to the door. She didn’t want to linger. Just a few more hours and the day would be over.

When the automatic doors slid open, a crisp February breeze greeted her. She inhaled deeply, savoring the air that carried the last remnants of winter. The sun was beginning its descent, as it casted a warm mix of fading hues throughout the sky, ranging from watercolor blues to soft pinks and oranges. The city seemed to mimic the tranquility of the scene. All around her, people bustled about. Most were wrapped in cozy sweaters instead of heavy coats now that the weather has shifted. Gentle laughter filled the atmosphere, mingling with the hum of the city. 

The eternal winter was finally ending, spring's promise lingering just out of reach. It should have been pleasant. But Cerys felt no joy in the sight of heart-shaped decorations cluttering every storefront, or the swarms of customers hunting for perfect gifts. She knew the truth that lay beneath it all. And she hated it.

Beneath the surface, love was fleeting. Not the eternal flame humans dreamed of, but a spark that flickered and died with time's passing. She watched them now, these mortals, pouring their hearts into a single day of grand gestures and promises they couldn't keep. Each year, the same elaborate performance, as if saying the words loud enough would make them true.

Human relationships often seemed to serve more as a distraction. Safety nets, really. They didn't fall in love so much as fall into routine, following the same tired script: meet, chase, capture, repeat. Like actors who'd forgotten they were in a play, believing their own performances.

Cerys had watched this dance for millennia. She'd seen them all - the desperate ones seeking warmth in another's arms, the lonely ones trying to fill their emptiness with borrowed joy, the dreamers convinced that this time would be different. They threw themselves into romance like it was a cure for existence itself, as if someone else's heart could heal the ache of being alive. Behind their bright smiles and tender touches lay the same hollow need, an appetite no temporary passion could satisfy. These flames of love they kindled would always gutter out in reality's harsh wind, leaving nothing but cold ashes of what they'd promised each other. And still they kept trying, kept believing. The fantasy was contagious, spreading from heart to heart like a fever no one wanted cured.

She would spend most of her days like this, wandering aimlessly. Today was nothing out of the ordinary. Occasionally, she would entertain the idea of lingering someplace else. Perhaps she’d escape to Korea or France for a change of scenery. But the vibrant streets of Seoul or Paris would somehow be worse than here. The crowds, the impassioned celebrations—it was all too much. At least here in New York, the chaos provided a kind of camouflage. Here, she didn’t have to pretend. She could vanish into the crowd, alone but not lonely.

She continued down the street for some time before being stopped at a crosswalk. It was at the end of the curb when she paused, her gaze drifting across the street. There, on a weathered bench, sat two teenagers. A small sense boiled within her as she watched them, sitting in silence among the lively energy of the world around them.

The girl had her dark hair tied back in a messy bun, wisps escaping to dance around her face in the February breeze. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her backpack, betraying her nervousness. The boy beside her kept stealing glances when he thought she wasn't looking, his knee bouncing slightly. The space between them on the bench might as well have been an ocean, charged with all the things they weren't saying.

Cerys's gaze lingered on them as the light changed. As she crossed the street, she couldn't help but overhear the boy's excited ramblings about some obscure band she'd never heard of. His words tumbled out too fast, like he'd been holding them back for weeks, waiting for this moment. The girl turned toward him, her eyes lighting up not at his words, but at his enthusiasm. A smile tugged at her lips, and she leaned in ever so slightly.

It was such a small moment—insignificant really. Just two awkward teenagers on a bench. But Cerys felt the familiar stirring in her chest, that ancient power that was both blessing and curse. With the smallest nudge, barely a thought, she wove the first gossamer thread between their hearts. It was delicate work, despite her millennia of practice. Too strong a push and it would snap, too gentle and it would dissolve like morning mist.

She wondered briefly what these two teenagers' love story would look like as it unfolded. Would they share a few precious months of first love before drifting apart? A year of passionate discoveries and crushing disappointments? Would the boy grow distant as summer approached, his head turned by someone new? Or would the girl be the one to pull away, realizing her dreams stretched beyond their small shared world? Perhaps they'd last longer than most, building something that almost looked like it could endure. But Cerys knew better. The end was inevitable. Still, something about their awkward, earnest energy made her linger a moment longer than usual.

She was about to continue toward the park - there were always more potential couples drawn to its winding paths and quiet corners - when a voice pierced her contemplation.

"How did you do that?"

Under most circumstances, Cerys would have kept walking. She had perfected the art of invisibility over the centuries, moving through crowds like a shadow, her work witnessed only in the aftermath - the shy smiles, the brushing hands, the first sparks of countless doomed romances. But this voice was too close, too direct to ignore. Besides, this block had been nearly empty just moments ago.

Turning her head, she found herself facing a young girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen, standing a few feet away. The girl's eyes were wide with wonder, her head tilted slightly as if trying to solve a puzzle. There was something unsettling about her directness, about the way she seemed to see right through Cerys's carefully maintained veneer of ordinariness.

"Sorry?" Cerys managed, though her throat felt suddenly dry.

"That thing you just did, with those two kids over there." The girl gestured toward the bench, where the teenagers were now sitting closer, their shoulders almost touching. "How did you do that? It was like... like watching someone light a match in the dark."

A rare emotion flashed through Cerys's body—something between panic and fascination. Heat coursed through her veins as she struggled to maintain her composure. "I... don't know what you're talking about," she said, the words feeling clumsy on her tongue.

The girl's face lit up with a knowing smile. Undeterred by Cerys's denial, she fell into step beside her, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "Wait! Please—I know what I saw. It was beautiful!"

Cerys quickened her pace, but the sound of the girl's delighted giggles followed her like wind chimes in a storm. Who—or what—was this child? A demon perhaps, or some mischievous spirit? In all her centuries, no mortal had ever seen through her disguise, let alone witnessed her at work. The very idea sent another shiver down her spine.

She glanced back again, hoping the girl had given up. Instead, she found her practically skipping alongside her, close enough now that Cerys could see the scatter of freckles across her nose and the gleam of braces when she smiled. There was something almost parasitic about her persistence, like she'd latched onto some vital truth and wouldn't let go until she'd extracted every detail.

With a heavy sigh, Cerys stopped abruptly, turning to face her unwanted companion. "Why are you following me?"

"I saw what you did," the girl said simply, as if it explained everything.

"And what exactly do you think you saw?"

"You made those kids fall in love!" The girl's voice carried such pure wonderment that it made Cerys's teeth ache. "It was like... like watching colors spread through water, or frost forming on a window. One minute they were just sitting there, and then you looked at them, and everything changed!"

"I didn't do anything," Cerys snapped, but even she could hear the hollowness in her denial.

"Yes, you did. I saw it!" The girl bounced on her toes, her enthusiasm undiminished. "The way they looked at each other afterward - that wasn't there before. You did that!"

"No, you can't have seen - that's not possible." Cerys was running out of denials, feeling increasingly cornered by this strange child's certainty.

"But I just did!" The girl's smile grew impossibly wider. "And it was amazing!"

Cerys dragged her hand down her face, exhaustion settling into her bones. "Look, kid, I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't me. Now leave me alone."

"But—"

"No."

"Just listen! Please?"

"Good-bye." Cerys waved her hand dismissively and turned away, hoping her brusqueness would finally deter the girl.

"I was wondering if you could help me with something!" The words tumbled out in a rush, desperate to be heard.

The request hit Cerys like a physical blow, making her recoil in disgust. "What? No! I don't do charity." The words escaped before she could stop them, and she knew immediately she'd made a terrible mistake.

The slip of her tongue left her mind reeling, emotions she hadn't felt in centuries crashing through her carefully maintained barriers. She could practically feel the girl's smile growing behind her, could sense the pieces clicking into place in that frighteningly perceptive mind.

"So it's true!" The girl's voice rose with barely contained excitement. "Are you Cupid?"

Cerys's thoughts scattered like startled birds, but her mouth moved of its own accord, centuries of indignation taking over. "Ew! You're comparing me to a winged infant?"

The words hung between them in the sudden silence, heavy as storm clouds. The girl stood there, her smile now reaching impossible proportions, eyes shining with the pure joy of discovery. Cerys felt a twinge of regret at her outburst, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the urgent need to escape this situation.

She glanced around the street, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way she hadn't experienced since the early days of her existence. It wasn't just that her true nature had been questioned - it was the way this girl had cut straight through centuries of careful concealment with nothing but honest observation and innocent wonder.

With a frustrated sigh, Cerys decided she'd had enough. After all, it's not like she got paid for this job anyway—no divine salary to compensate for being discovered by precocious mortals.

In less than a heartbeat, she gathered her power around her like a cloak and simply... vanished. One moment she was there, the next she had blinked out of existence, leaving nothing but a slight stirring in the air where she had stood.

Beyond its visual appeal, green also carries rich symbolism. In many Eastern traditions, it represents the Heart Chakra (Anahata), associated with love, compassion, and connection. Who would've guessed!

In all its shades, green is about balance and becoming. This creates a duality in the color that I find deeply powerful: Vitality and vulnerability. It reminds me that even the smallest sprout can grow into something incredible, yet it also speaks of the fragile seedling needing care to thrive. It’s an invitation to reflect, recharge, and embrace both strength and tenderness, to journey into the world with curiosity and courage.