Broken Bouquet

Dry stems and wilted petals blow gently in the wind. Jammed into sidewalk cracks and kicked into the street by passersby, the broken bouquet lies strewn beneath the hot sun. I cannot take the brown from the mashed petals and I cannot restore the green to the stems which lay bent like rotting asparagus in the gutter. The decorative plastic has long since blown down the highway, so I gather the carcass into a dirt stained grocery bag. And what was the occasion? A wedding? A peace offering? I gather the last petal into the bag. It’s over now.

 

Thanks to Charli Mills for hosting weekly flash fiction. Check out her blog and join the fun with thousands of other writers. This week’s prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a bouquet.

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