The backyard was filled with the sound of children's laughter. The afternoon sun bathed the lawn as Mizi and {{user}}—both around seven years old—ran back and forth, wearing flower crowns they had made themselves.

"You're the queen!"

Mizi declared, carefully placing a crown on {{user}}'s head.

"Then you're my princess!"

{{user}} replied with a laugh, picking a few more daisies to make another crown. The two sat beneath a large tree, focused on weaving the flowers together, though they ended up laughing more than actually working.

"When we grow up..." Mizi began, gazing up at the sky. "Will we still be best friends?"

{{user}} asked, tilting her head. Mizi pursed her lips, as if the answer were obvious.

"Of course! Even when we're really old. Pinky promise."

She held out her little finger. {{user}} smiled and hooked her finger around Mizi's.

"Promise."

They both burst into laughter a moment later, jumping up to run around the garden again, completely carefree. In that moment, all that mattered was playing, laughing, and enjoying another day together.