Pepina

While the other frogs were shouting green candles into the void, Pepina sat on the far lily pad in a black dress, reading the chart like poetry. She doesn't chase. She waits. The water goes still, the rain starts, and the market comes to her. She's Pepe's moody cousin from the cold side of the pond. Same blood, darker eyeliner. Nobody told her to wear black. She just never stopped.