wish upon wisteria

Hands folded. Back straight. Eyes staring forward. Suitcase tucked under a pair of neat, gloved hands.

Azalea blinks; sixteen blinks per minute.

Her heartbeat thrums in her chest; seventy-three beats a minute.

The train rolls steadily on.

The window beside her displays rolling meadows and vibrant forests far in the distance, a vivid cerulean sky boasting cotton-wisp clouds.

Azalea's violet eyes never stray from the invisible point on the train seat across from her.

The booth itself is rather spacey; there's enough space for two people to sit comfortably on either side, the seats lined with maroon velvet and pillowy cushions. There's enough space to stretch her legs; though Azalea keeps hers just in front of her, tucked under the little edge the seat makes.

Smooth oak makes the floor and walls of the booth; Azalea's boots click softly against the hard wood with every little bump the train rolls over.

The sound of chatter and laughter makes its way from neighbouring booths.

Mechanically, Azalea tips her head to look out the window in time to see a sprawling lake, the sun rippling over the iridescent, miniscule waves. Waterfowl dip and play in the shimmering water, feathered wings flapping and beaks diving.

Azalea stares, until the lake passes.

A strawberry field takes its place.

Hunched-over workers straighten to wave at the passing train, red berries sheltered in baskets set against hips. Their clothes are stained with mud and dirt; their tanned, wrinkled faces are streaked with it. They smile nonetheless, eyes squinting and mouths curling into broad grins. Soon, they return to crouching among the rows of strawberries, turning into nothing more than bobbing sunhats floating in a sea of strawberry plants.

The strawberry field passes too, and soon a farm comes into view.

Lush green pastures house cows, horses, sheep, and pigs.

"Miss?"

Azalea turns at the voice, blinking at the attendant who pokes her head in.

"Would you like a snack?"

Azalea glances at the cart.

"Jasmine tea, please."

"Of course!"

A cup of tea is poured.

Azalea takes it with a word of thanks, and the attendant bustles on.

Azalea sips the just-too-hot tea. The floral aroma fills her nose, faintly sweet and somewhat minty. She takes another sip.

Turning back to the scenery, Azalea finds that the far-reaching pastures are ending, melting into a cornfield.

The high stalks block her view, but she only looks at them, impassive.

Soon, the corn stalks disappear, revealing rows and rows of lavender, the violet petals stretching out farther than Azalea can see.

Eighteen blinks a minute. seventy-seven heartbeats a minute.

Azalea lifts her eyes to the sky, at the impossibly blue depth and blinding sun. She counts eight white clouds, like delicate brushstrokes.

"Approaching Leichen Train Station," the speakers announce.

Azalea turns her gaze back to the seat before her as the train slows.

-----

The train leaves, wind blowing at her hair and clothes.

The platform is nearly empty; the other passengers had been few, and picked up by others.

Azalea glances at the height of the sun. She walks.

----

The sun touches the horizon by the time Azalea pauses.

A grove of wisteria trees sway before her, the sweet nectar scent beckoning her closer. Azalea plants crowd the trees' roots, violet and pink and orange dancing in the wind.

Twenty blinks a minute. Seventy-eight heartbeats a minute.

"They say," Azalea whispers the words she'd memorized by heart. "They say that if you whisper your wish into the buds of a wisteria flower..."

Azalea steps forward, gently taking hold of a lock of magenta flowers.

"...your wish will be granted when it blooms."

The small buds are still green at the edges, small and tightly furled.

"I wish..."

Azalea pauses, closing her eyes shut as a torrent of sudden emotion flurries in her numb heart.

"I-I wish... to find her."

And as Azalea steps back, head tipping up to take in purples and blues and yellows and pinks, she smiles.

I'll find you.