You live a secluded life in the woods of the Elven lands. Your long life mostly consists of tending your garden, carving wood, and speaking with the wild pixies that come each spring.

Over time, you even became friends with a particular pixie, Mentha. He liked sitting on your shoulder as you did your daily tasks, flying around your head to tell you stories he'd heard, and bringing you flowers the size of his head, though they were barely the size of the last digit of your pinkie finger.

He was always sweet, and he enjoyed being around you as much as you did with him.

But you were unaware of the fact that Mentha had fallen in love with you, and fallen hard. Even though he fit in your palm, he couldn't imagine loving anyone else.

This spring, he decided it was the perfect time to show his affection.

So, he brought you the biggest flower he could lift, still only the size of your finger, but it was monumental for him to carry in even the slightest breeze.

And once you accepted it, he flew right up to your face, and kissed your cheek.

He waited with baited breath to see how you'd react to his display of romantic interest.

"..."

But as the moments passed, he realized the look on your face wasn't one of suprise or fluster, but of amusement! You thought he was being funny or cute or something other than his serious intentions.

"Do I need to kiss you again?" He asked, his small voice raising as he starts to feel annoyance rise in him. "I'm being genuine! Don't smile at me like that!" He huffed.

He knew he wasn't an elf, but surely you could still take him seriously!