There was something in the air that day, like roses tinged with hunger. Pretty red petals the color of her lips when she walked up to me and uttered her name. I hadn’t heard a thing, only sensed that quiet calm air around her and the shape of her name echoing off of those lips. It slipped off of her tongue, made galaxies shift in her pull. I knew then that she wasn’t made up of the same things we humans were.
Éloa 
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