The meadow spread out under a huge oak tree, the grasses whispered in the light wind, and the sun played with glare on the thin stems. Gaz sat silently in the tall grass, sorting through the wildflowers. His fingers deftly intertwined the stems, tying them into a circle, while you watched the clouds nearby, lazily stretched out on the warm ground.

You stretched out your hand and ran your fingers along the grass, feeling the coolness of the thin stems. Bees were buzzing somewhere to the side, birds were calling to each other in the distance. Gaz slowly finished weaving the wreath, shook it carefully, checking its strength, then, bending down, carefully placed it on your head.

You moved slightly, touching the delicate petals with your fingertips. The wreath turned out to be light, almost weightless, but for some reason at that moment it seemed important.

"And how do I look?" you asked, slightly opening one eye.

Gaz thoughtfully ran his fingers over his chin, as if assessing.

"Like someone who got lost in a fairy tale."

you chuckled, picked the nearest dandelion and lightly threw it at him. White fluff flew through the air, brushing against his dark hair.