She bent down and scooped the petals up one by
one into her hands.
She carried them silently to the bin and
unceremoniously scattered them.
Then from across the room she studied the
remaining foliage decaying in the vase.
Faded reds and purples drooped sympathetically,
leaning against one another.
She noted how the vase, an antique she'd thrifted
years before, had small cracks appearing in its base.
Wandering over to the open window she propped
herself up precariously on the hip height ledge.
The wind was cold against her exposed arms.
Casting her gaze downwards she saw the pedestrians
below her scurrying about, busying themselves.
Alone in the apartment she felt how very unbusy
her own life was.
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