Why I Buried Her with Sunflowers
The night I met my shadow again felt like this night: a bit chilly for the season, quiet and
looming. The brooding figure before me snarled with the faintest voice. She stood a bit taller
than me but rounded out the box I stuffed her into years ago. She asked me why I buried her
with sunflowers. I told her they were my favorite flower and hoped she'd hold on to them until we
met again.
looming. The brooding figure before me snarled with the faintest voice. She stood a bit taller
than me but rounded out the box I stuffed her into years ago. She asked me why I buried her
with sunflowers. I told her they were my favorite flower and hoped she'd hold on to them until we
met again.