Yale Allen had a long dream, where Selena Flores said she wanted to pick osmanthus flowers and asked him whether he preferred sweet or salty osmanthus tea.
He clung to her, begging her not to go, saying he didn't like tea and petulantly refused to let her pick osmanthus flowers.
"Yale."
"Yale."
She was calling him.
Had she agreed? Was she not going to pick the osmanthus flowers?
"Yale."
"Yale."
Yale Allen opened his eyes, and the girl who was about to pick osmanthus flowers in his dream was sitting in a chair beside his bed.
"Selena Flores."
She really came.
He woke from the dream, staring at her for a long time, and reached out to touch her hand resting on her knee.
It was warm, not an illusion.
"Did my aunt go to find you?"
"Yeah."
She wore a dark cyan coat today.
She always liked to wear such a somber, mature color when she was young, even though she was just a teenager.
