This day was supposed to be perfect.
Why? Why now?
The witch felt many emotions at that moment, none of them good:
Melancholy, sorrow, loathing, and grief.
She felt all those things yet she could not think, as if something terrible had taken over her. It felt terrible.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the infection spread. Two weeks since everything changed.
The witch sat under what used to be a beautiful gazebo surrounded by gorgeous flowers full of life and glee, but is now dead.
Dead.
Everything was cold and dead: the flowers, the decorations, the atmosphere, her heart.
She could not help but sob.
How long have I been crying?
It must have been days.
She had every reason to cry, though.