A sea of yellow.
Warm.
Safe.
The sound of your breath.
Quick.
Rough.
The feel of earth beneath your fingers.
Cool.
Damp.
Sheltered.
Sheltered from the sun by the soft, golden petals that strain to soak up its rays.
The smell of green.
Wet.
Alive.
Tainted.
Tainted by the sharp scent of cologne that still lingers in your nostrils.
Mother.
Angry.
Withdrawn.
Ignoring you.
Ignoring your pleas.
Forcing you.
Forcing you to go there.
Grandfather's voice.
Gentle.
Saccharine.
Echoing.
Echoing in your mind.
Telling you.
Telling you not to tell anyone.