Anything but a still-life

The clicking of her heels stretched out against the gravel steps. Although they were muffled by the sounds of nature, the bury of silence made possible the twang of her heels. She carried an umbrella, the way a damsel would. Striding down the botanical gardens she took one last breath before exiting the stone path. She turned, allowing the sun's rays to cascade down her red locks, forcing the twinkle in her eye. She turned away from the scenery. Walking past the wisps of insects awakening, the wallows of the sparrows and continued down to the gallery. Her hat was tilted but she could still make out the silhouette of detective Zoe, whose dreadlocks were pinned neatly in a bow.

"You don't seem nervous at all." The detective crossed her arms.

Walking next to her she said," Being nervous won't solve anything."

She stood, shoulder to shoulder with the detective. "Is it busy inside?"

The detective puffed. "Of course it is, it's filled with astrocytes and critics."