A year ago, all the araliya trees in the school compound were like dead bodies - skeletal creatures, their branches spindly fingers that bore no flowers, these fingers reaching empty handed to the sky. And now, they have been reborn. The essence of life breather over these emaciated waifs, bringing with it the abundance of blooming flowers in every pigment conceivable - white, yellow, pink, magenta.
They were sorely missed.
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