Chapter 4 Segment 2 of the Sentient She Shed
The garden was waiting.
Not with silence.
With breath.
The flash drives blinked in rhythm, forming a circle around Lila. The soil pulsed gently beneath her feet.
The mouse stepped forward, carrying a tiny vial of light.
It held it up, and the glow spread—soft, golden, like morning sun through lace.
Lila dipped her finger into the light.
One by one, she touched the flash drives.
Each bloomed.
Not with petals, but with memory.
A sketch. A song. A half-written letter.
The garden hummed.
The flash drives weren’t just storing data.
They were remembering.
And they needed her to help them grow.
Prompt for readers: What forgotten part of you is ready to bloom again?
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