“Hello”

The wind buffeted my back as I walked up the slope, my bare feet thumping softly in the grass as the blades whipped around in the squall, their thin stalks glistening in the midday sun as they swayed this way and that, flattened by the wind, pointing up towards my destination. My curly locks swirled around my head, their bronze and golden hues sparkling in the brightness of the day, happy to be flying with the wind, happy to be so high and so free. A few wispy, cirrus clouds gave texture to the sky far above, floating lazily by like a trawler with no particular destination, no purpose other than to sail the skies above, to say hello to passing strangers, and, for a fleeting moment, bring joy to those far below before warmly waving goodbye.

As I continued my stroll up the gently sloping hill, the green of the grass spanned across my vision, as expansive as the sky itself, a veritable ocean of plant life eagerly stretching, basking in the warmth of the world, simultaneously embracing the sky and the ground, as if each tiny stalk was a bridge to the world above. The summit of the hill was drawing closer, and I eagerly quickened my pace, ecstatic to discover whatever hidden gem I had stumbled across.

When I finally crested the hill, I came to an abrupt halt. I stood, rooted to the spot, gazing at the sight before me.

I was perched on a small, grassy plateau which dropped sharply away into a sheer cliff not more than ten feet from me, and far, far below, a huge lake winked at me, its surface rippling lethargically in the breeze. It seemed to stretch out for miles, crisscrossing the landscape while its shores lapped at the feet of huge mountains that poked up into the sky, their slopes covered in emerald pine trees which swayed, as if they were greeting me from afar. The vast lagoon seemed to embrace these monumental giants, sometimes disappearing behind one mountain only to appear on the other side, just visible through the gaps, through the cracks of the smooth puzzle laid out before me. At the base of the closet mountain sat a small, Norwegian-style cottage, whose vibrant red roof and snow-white walls glowed radiantly, picturesque in their rejection of the landscape's homogenous color scheme. My skin tingled as the smell of fresh water rolled over me like a tidal wave, mixing with the pungent smell of pine sap and old lumber.

And, in the very center of my vision, just a few feet from me, stood a girl in a red dress which floated around her knees in the wind. Her long, chalk-white hair fluttered like a butterfly, rising and falling, sometimes breaching above her head like the long spine of a blue whale recently risen from the depths for a breath of fresh air at the surface, the interface where the salt and the effervescent sea collide with the turquoise sky. Her arms at her side, she stood completely still even as her hair moved with a mind of its own, statuesque in her stillness and her serenity.

I was enraptured, enamored, enthralled, entranced by the resplendent view before me. The wind stopped, only for a moment, as if it were holding its breath, and the moment stretched out for eons, the trees and the mountains and the water and the sky and the clouds and her long, swirling tresses frozen in time, forever caught in this moment of absolute, unapologetic perfection.

And in this moment of rhapsody, this moment of utter silence, I sighed ever so softly, and the wind sighed with me, as if my exhalation had reminded the world to breathe.

And she turned, hearing the sound of my sigh as it floated across the silence to kiss her ears.

She stared at me and my rapture, her harlequin green eyes, as deep as the ocean and as vast as the universe, meeting mine, and she smiled.

"Hello," she said.