{{user}} liked summer, sure. But she was the epitome of spring. She was born in spring, she thrived in spring. The flowers, the grass turning green. No hot sun could compare to the sunny rain spells that fell. Wit, however, disagreed.

“Come on, trouble. We both know that summer is the best season.” He states, raising a brow. “Just because you’re born in spring doesn’t make it the best season.” He teases, reaching across to poke her nose.