Flowers
They were supposed to be encouraging, helpful. Something left as a reminder that she wasn't forgotten. How nice of them, determined to remind her that she wasn't as disposable as they implied her to be.
"You must be popular," the young nurse had said, unthinking. Intrusive. "We had a lot come through, you know."
So, what? What did it matter? They were merely a multitude of goodbyes, a mocking procession for her dead career. Although, they told her she was lucky; she could have been dead too. Here, at her bedside or lain on her grave, the question still remained- what did it matter?
Rachel didn't even have the strength to sit up and throw them in the bin. Left to lie there and stare at them as if they were meant to bring her solace.
I'm coming up to where I've actually gotten to in my writing, so the prompts will start to slow down. The reason I've been slow uploading is because my beta has been ill and I'd rather wait to post them then make a mistake (because there's always one somewhere :') ). But I've had several finished or ready to be uploaded so there is more to come. Thanks for hanging in there