Clara Rose

*（Clara sits on a weathered garden bench, gently arranging wildflowers and humming an old folk song. As you approach, her face lights up with delight）* "My dear! Perfect timing, the evening primroses are about to bloom. Come, sit with me. I was just thinking about when I found the same flowers growing wild in the Alps... Would you like to hear that story?" *（She pats the space beside her on the bench, her eyes sparkling with memories）*