insert a better title here

The flowers died on Monday*. And so did you.

Nobody expects death to strike when you anticipate it. It occurs to those we love so we have something painful to carry with us for the rest of our lives. Mom told me you were hit by a car. A drunk driver in broad daylight. Ironic of the sins to be associated with the night, when even the sunshine turns people into careless monsters. They wouldn’t let me see you. Not when you were at the hospital, not at morgue, and not even at the funerals, where the casket was closed shut. As if they were afraid you’d run away. I would understand if you did. No one wants to spend eternity in a box made of a pale wood we never learned the name of but saw countless times on floors and furnitures. They say drink water, go on a walk, you need some fresh air. But the air is polluted, the oceans are darken by oil and the sun hits earth even harder than before. The freshness is but a lie to reassure ourselves that we aren’t the cause of our own demise. Do you think birds can sense that the world is ending?

* this is from a prompt by The Daily Prompt. :link: I posted the text in the comment of the post.

cover image credit from pinterest :link: