She is a lost soul, forever haunted by unfulfilled love—crowned with fragile orange flowers, the last fading embers of a heart that once burned bright. Eyes closed against the ache, lips parted in a silent, endless sigh, she lingers like a half-remembered promise. Then, quietly, she begins to unravel. Petals drift away into drifting static, their vivid warmth bleeding into cold, indifferent gray. Edges soften, form fractures, every trace of her presence surrenders to the vast emptiness that has always waited. No tears. No final cry. Only gentle surrender. A love never returned claims her at last, drawing her back into the nothingness from which longing once summoned her. In the end, there is only aching memory of a soul that loved too deeply, and was never loved in return…