A bouquet of withering flowers, chapter 10 Carnation
A bouquet of withering flowers, chapter 10 Carnation love stories
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The purple flower stood alone in the vase, proud and thriving while the other had died. She observed it with dead eyes waiting for her brain to register the flower. When the sky was set on fire she continued to watch, not able to grasp that she had no clue of when the flower was given to her,

A bouquet of withering flowers, chapter 10 Carnation

The purple flower stood alone in the vase, proud and thriving while the other had died. She observed it with dead eyes waiting for her brain to register the flower.

When the sky was set on fire she continued to watch, not able to grasp that she had no clue of when the flower was given to her,

what it meant or why it looked so healthy compared to the withered ones drenched in blood on the windowsill.

It hurt her deeply to forget her for if she ever forgot her she would have no moments of light.

There was nothing that separated the pain caused by fixedness, and the pain caused by her leaving. All of the pain was physical. Her whole body hurt.

Her spine arced, the verbretre sticking out of her back, begging her to move. To stand up or only to sit up straight. Her arms strained as they laid in her lap unable to relax.

Her left ring finger pulsated and begged for her to stop turning the ring, begged her to let go and take it off. Her face was stale with tears that got switched out every so often.

She lifted her gaze from the flower to the window, the small movement causing her the hiss at the strain in her neck. In the window, she caught her own reflection.

She watched the face in the window that could very well have been someone else's. She looked into the set of eyes on the face not recognizing anything in them.

They were dull as if they were only a shallow puddle filled with muddy water.

The skin surrounding them were dark and sunken and all of the eyelashes seemed to have formed three of four clumpy ones.

She could not understand how the person in the window, was her.

See, she had changed her, everything about her. The way she spoke, the way she held herself, the ways she viewed the world, how she breathed, and how she lived.

When she left it was as if she forgot everything she ever showed her how to do. She forgot how to live without her wife by her side.

Though she by every scientific definition was alive, she had died. The day her angel had unwrapped her wings, the day the world went dark, she had died.

She had not taken a pleasant breath since, not seen anything but her, not slept a second in peace.

Nonetheless, the pain was worth it.

fin.

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