These violent delights have violent ends...
Her eyes glanced at the filled wine glass in appeal. Lately, nothing was how she wanted it, so instead of doing the logical thing, she drunk her pain away. It was easier, albeit much more harmful, it did the job. Being sober was never what she had in mind anymore.
The pub server looked at her in concern, "Miss, are you here to buy anything?"
She nodded, reluctantly after a while, "How much is that wine?"
"One pound, Miss."
"One pound? That's rather expensive, kind Sir." She scoffed, disapprovingly.
"Anything to earn, Madam. Are you going to buy it?"
"No, thank you."
He gently swayed to the other tables, serving them hastily. She decided that right now wasn't the time to drink.
She walked out of the small pub and into High Street, the flower petals being carried by the winds, painting the pavements red, white, and purple.
She took in the sight, the smell, the feeling of the petals caressing her cheeks as they moved along to their destination.
Life.
Withering petals and faint aromas, withering bodies and faint odours, all part of life—death. It was inevitable.
She shuffled along to the library to meet Marigold, her little sister, she'd been working at the place for a mere week but the hard labour made up for it.
"Mesia!" She hugged Artemisia tightly, "I found this interesting series of books, they're all about the stars and the placements. It's all probably a load of bollocks but it's fascinating, surely." She whispered.
"Ah, really? Show me then!" She giggled.
Marigold led her into a aisle of books, floor to ceiling.
The leather covers held up pretty well since the books got moved quite often.
The red, rusty step stool was a safety hazard but the series was on the top set and it was the only way to get to them. Marigold had a basket in her hand, presumably for the books.
"Be careful, Goldie."
"I will, I will." She chortled.
The faint chuckles were the only sign of life in the deafening silence of the library. But another person resided within the reading nook.
Chris.