She said she smelled honeysuckles.
"There are no honeysuckles."
"I smell them."
"Well, there aren't any." He followed her through the winding bushes anyway. "It's way too cold. It's not time for honeysuckles - you're out of your - "
He stopped as she turned around to face him, pale blossom in hand. He watched her pull the thin stem easily from the flower, and held it up to his lips.
He felt confused, like a teacher had marked him wrong on a test, when his answer was right.
"It's - they can't be growing now - it's almost December - "
When she saw he wasn't going to take the stem, she brought it to her own mouth and sipped the syrup easily off.
She let it drop to the ground and reached for another, shrugging as it if was simple, when it wasn't.
"They're confused too."