Amara toddles across the green grass.
A tiny yellow flower peeks up from between the blades.
She reaches down. The flower hides behind a leaf.
She lifts the leaf — pop — it opens wide again. She tries a third time, and the flower stays still.
Amara holds the flower up to her eye and giggles.
She toddles toward the bench where her mother sits, the yellow bloom pressed close to her chest.
She stops and holds up the flower.
Her mother smiles.
Amara beams, her cheeks rosy in the sun.
The garden glows all around them.
