Carnation of Luck

My fingertips ever so gently settle against the cool clear panes that separate me from the world that lays beyond. The ever changing canvas that holds itself stationary with confidence above buildings that lie motionless each day. Each day, I can see the buildings wear down little by little. The colors fade away, making my once colorful view become dull and disappointing. These colors seem to mirror my life as years pass. Decades pass. Centuries pass. Yet, I never seem to change, my physical state has stayed the same but my mental state had not. I have become lonely. No other signs of life have ever come across me. No people, no animals. There is just me and my lonely room with no doors and one locked window. Until today, a young girl, wearing braids fashioned on her head as if it were a crown, ran up to my window, and planted a single white carnation, the flower of the gods, in its most pure and innocent form. She had planted the flower right outside of my window, giving me a clear view of the delicate plant. The little girl then left as quick as she had come, without a single trace or explanation. Who is she? Why would she plant this flower here? Where did she come from?