Every morning, after coffee that did not warm her, toast she did not taste, Lucille pulled on her coat and walked to the cemetery. Today she bought pink tea roses and let the vendor keep the change. Snow dusted the grave. She fingered the pills, placed the last flowers before the tiny headstone.
A very micro flash for the weekly Press53 Pokrompt.
Inspired by LAST FLOWERS, sung by the incomparable Thom Yorke of Radiohead.
Peace...
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That is some cause for depression, Lady. Earned.
ReplyDeleteHeartbreak in so few words.
ReplyDeleteI could see this in my mind, everything bleak and grey except for those tea roses. Heart-wrenching.
ReplyDeleteVery vivid. Succinct and heart-wrenching.
ReplyDeleteHow incredibly sad.
ReplyDeleteLoved it Linda, how you put so much humanity into so few words.
ReplyDelete"...fingered the pills...last flowers..."
ReplyDeleteAn aching sadness here, and seemingly not likely to fade. Great emotion in this piece, Linda.
Really well done.
Thanks all for reading my sad little words.
ReplyDeleteSomeday--SOME DAY!--I will write a happy/funny piece. Promise ;^) peace...