Still Holding On

She sits alone on the park bench, the last light of the sunset soft against her skin. In her hand, a single red rose—fresh, unbloomed, and full of meaning. There’s a quiet thoughtfulness in her eyes, a softness that doesn’t ask for attention but keeps it. Dressed simply in an oversized hoodie, she feels like someone you passed once and never forgot. The moment is small, but it lingers—because sometimes, stillness says everything.