3

The morning it happened, I woke up feeling strangely light, like my thoughts were floating instead of sitting inside my head. When I dragged myself to my mirror, still half‑asleep, I froze. Bright yellow sunflowers were blooming straight out of my neck, their petals stretching toward the ceiling like they owned the place. Honestly, it was the most interesting thing that had happened to me in weeks, and I welcomed the surprised. Magic showing up uninvited always made life more interesting.

I walked outside, the flowers bobbing with every step, and the sunlight made them glow like tiny suns orbiting my head. People stared, but I didn’t care. A couple of people nearly tripped over themselves trying to figure out if what they were seeing was real. I tossed my neck back, the petals fluttering like I was some kind of walking garden.

By midday, the flowers had grown even bigger, their stems curling down like vines. I’d pluck a petal and toss it into the air just to see where it landed. I didn’t bother trying to understand why this was happening. Besides, the flowers made me feel like the main character in a story I didn’t have to work for.

When the sun started to set, the flowers tilted toward the fading light, and I felt a warm pulse run through me, like they were alive in more ways than one. Maybe they’d disappear by morning, or maybe I’d wake up with a whole new bouquet next time. Either way, I wasn’t worried.