A bouquet of withering flowers, chapter 8 Statice
A bouquet of withering flowers, chapter 8 Statice love stories
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Her cheeks were wet and her throat hurt from suppressing the sobs that threatened to get ripped out of her with every thread that was woven by her memory. She shut her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling and let her ribcage break with each breath she took.

A bouquet of withering flowers, chapter 8 Statice

Her cheeks were wet and her throat hurt from suppressing the sobs that threatened to get ripped out of her with every thread that was woven by her memory.

She shut her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling and let her ribcage break with each breath she took.

She dissolved into the pain, let it wrap its cold arms around her, and squeeze her till she could not breathe. Until she could not feel anything but the ache of loss. Then a sound broke through.

The sound of yet another flower falling to drip with her blood.

It had taken a toll on both of them, the excessive work she had signed up for. She started to fear going home because then she would have to face her.

The woman who once had been her greatest source of happiness now only reminded her how much things had changed.

She still loved her with every fibre of her body but that love could no longer blossom and thrive like it once could.

The time they had stolen now demanded to be returned, and who was to blame but them? They had been greedy, gobbling up every second of every minute with no mind for consequences.

Then she could not be viewed as innocent for she was the one paying the time back though it may not have been due.

Once in a while, their schedules would line up for them to eat dinner or breakfast together, then the change was all but possible to avoid.

They would not say anything, only look at their plates with bowed heads.

She could not look her in the eyes without feeling what was then the greatest pain she had ever felt that now looked like nothing but a fraction of her sorrow.

They no longer slept tangled in each other's limbs in fear of waking the other up leading to both of them shivering on opposite sides of the bed.

It started to show on them, the loss. Both had dark circles under their eyes, and numb toes from running into the random rubbish on the floor that no one could manage to pick up or get rid of.

She had once again become one of the frowning people in the coffee shop. One who no longer could breathe. One who no longer could see.

She had clung to the hope of a better future until the future had begun to look more painful than the present for she no longer stood beside her.

Her clothes no longer hung over the backrest of their dining room chairs and there were no paintings of the world on the walls.

It was an awfully grey picture, not a hint of colour in the picture.

There were also blank slots with only the memory of pain and discomfort. Things she knew she should remember, that she at one point had.

But she did remember the day her worries came true, for that was the day the stars went out.

In the middle of the dining room table stood one proud yellow flower, a Statice, the flower which meant sympathy with a note tied around its dainty stem.

It was not goodbye though that was no relief for the note was much worse.

Dear, this is a hard time for us both though I have wondered why? Why we struggle, that is.

First upon pondering I could not think it was us, but, darling, it is. It has to be.

I have listened to you speaking about the time we stole as if it was unfair of us as if this was always bound to happen. As though you knew, and waited, for things to crumble.

I have noticed it now, how you know that we are breaking. Is that why you are leaving me alone so much these days?

Are you scared of us? Has god sent you a message? Because, my love, this could all work out.

There is no reason for you to work in the coffee shop and the office to the length that you do.

Do not tell me that we need the money, we have enough, more than so. I see it in your eyes, the few times I have the privilege to look into them, that you are tired and you are sad.

It hurts me you have to know that.

Please think of me, of us, when you walk away every day without good reason.

Then the moon fell out of the sky, the seas washed over her, drowning her in cold, saltwater, and debris. Her lungs filled up with the cold water and never did she cough it up.

She lived like that from then on. With a broken heart, foolish mind, and lungs of sorrow.

She watched a raindrop roll down the glass of the window, colliding with other droplets and taking them with. She leaned closer and the window fogged up.

She had no idea how long she watched the raid and had no perception of time. There was no start nor end to her days.

She sat in her chair and looked out the window from dusk till dawn, for how long she did not know.

She no longer had anything to care for, or of. There was no work to be done, no one to see, and no task that seemed possible to accomplish.

She was tied to the chair, forced to watch whatever her cruel mind could remember.

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