Iron Bloom's Heart

Anya squinted at the chrome flower, its sharp petals defying gravity. Iron Bloom, she called it, a reflection of the city she loved. But an old woman's words echoed: "Where's the city's kindness?" Anya hesitated. The strength was there, the resilience, but the laughter in fire escape jungles, the sunset's golden touch? A spark ignited. Iron Bloom wasn't just metal, it was a canvas. With a determined glint, Anya grabbed her tools. The city's heart, harsh and beautiful, deserved a fuller bloom.