This flower, at my lunchtime hideaway, waved in the warm summer breeze, cheering me, reviving me, until the buzz of the brown and gold creature grew nearer. The bee settled into its snowy surface. The flower drew in a quick breath and held it, stilled its movement, its white pedals brave under the tromping legs. The bee remained until it took what it wanted, then lifted, setting the flower in motion again, to sway on a relieved sigh.
It reminded me of my protagonist, and how she must deal with the conflict around her. Perhaps if she had held her breath and remained motionless, she wouldn't have fallen into worse circumstances.