Dried Dandelions - Part ll

There were colourless shapes in that dark chamber; of course, daylight could bring brilliant magenta or darkest scarlet, but for now, it could be a scene from a black and white movie. The silhouettes were already less visible than they had been a short time before, and I looked out the window; any moment the sun would kiss the sky orange, sparking new darkness and putting an end to the birds' chorus. I sat down on a sofa that was placed in a corner of the room. When I looked down, I saw that I was still holding the dead flowers that I had replaced. The sunflowers and dandelions in my palm weren't just dead; they'd been dried like the beautiful blossoms my nan used to hang in her kitchen. The petals clung to one other, radiating around the brown centre, its beautiful chocolate colours visible even in the darkness of the room.

I had no idea how much time had passed when the door was jolted open. And there he entered, with that cold expression and dead eyes that I despise so much. He st