In a tribute to the end of the terrible days, Wisteria rained down from the trees to greet the survivors. The scars on their backs would heal, one day. All they needed was a little care. The petals of the flowers reached down to touch them, soft floral leaf against rough skin as they walked down the path between the trees. The survivors would become whole again, some day. The Wisteria said a prayer over the heads of little ones whose legs wrapped around their parent’s neck and blessed the shoulders of those parents and anyone else they could reach. Purple petals were left in dark hair as a goodbye, some sneaking down black t-shirts to touch the places they were needed most. The towns people would go on to eat the petals of the Wisteria, infused into bread and marshmallows and baked into chicken skin. This is how they survived. The Wisteria healed them from the inside out.