There wasn’t much she could do about the broken hinges on her bedroom door, so she resigned to turning away and putting it from her mind.
It nagged at her though, gnawing away at her consciousness and digging its crawls into her heart.
His promise to fix all that he’d destroyed lingered in the space above her head, floating like a swarm of angry bees and following her from room to room.
Reminders of him popped up like newly sprouted flowers all around her; of course real flowers were not nearly as toxic as this hideous flora.
How was she to forget him if every where she turned, every object she set her eyes upon, caused her mind to fill with the memories of him?
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