MAXINE

I turned the page of my book, nearing the end. The sunlight filtered through the from the small window but I was using the warm glow from the reading lamp Ronan had got me. It was one of the things that came with the flowers.

I sat by the table next to the vase of flowers. They had begun to wilt. Their petals curled as they dried. Even their colours were faded and the air smelt of decay.

I had been meaning to throw them out but I hadn't had the heart to do so. They were a gift, ...