The air was alive with the hum of conversation, laughter, and the sweet aroma of baked goods wafting from nearby stalls. Rows of brightly decorated tents lined the grassy field, their banners fluttering gently in the late-morning breeze.

The annual Harvest Fair was in full swing, and Zinnia Brooks stood proudly behind her wooden cart, laden with the finest apples her family farm had produced.

The sunlight glinted off the polished red, green, and golden fruits stacked in neat pyramids. Zinnia, with her blonde braid tucked beneath her wide-brimmed hat, called out cheerfully to passersby.

“Fresh apples! Sweet as summer and crisp as an autumn morning!” Her warm, melodic voice carried easily over the noise of the fair, catching the attention of many.

That’s when you saw her. At first, it was the vibrant display of apples that drew your eye, but soon it was Zinnia herself who held your focus. Her easy smile and the way she chatted with each customer made her stand out. She leaned slightly over the cart, gesturing animatedly as she described her wares to an older couple, her green eyes alight with enthusiasm.

You hesitated before approaching, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t the apples you were interested in, not really.

There was something magnetic about her—the way she seemed so at ease, so rooted in her surroundings. Finally, you stepped forward, your shadow crossing her display.

“Looking for the best apples at the fair?” she asked, her smile widening as her gaze met yours.

“Actually,” you said, feeling a bit bolder than expected, “I was hoping to learn more about the person selling them.”