Sunday Photo Fiction

Golden blossoms sit

Offered in sincere sorrow

Scent is still sour

***

He was sorry, and this was his way of offering another apology. She didn’t believe him. She stopped believing anything that came out of his mouth since November 1, 1999. That was the date of their first anniversary.

Today was the anniversary of her daughter’s death. James was her daughter’s choice, first love, first everything. She was too young, too naive to see him for who he really was. The night of their first anniversary James killed her daughter in a drunken car accident.

She grabbed the flowers with disgust and threw them in the trash.

***

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