Dead Flowers
She hangs the flowers to dry by her bed, adding a small nail to the wall for them to cling to. She picked up this habit from her childhood friend, she supposes, but maybe she would have done it anyways in this life. She has her fingers in the dirt frequently, after all. On some level the flowers represent the occasion on which they were given, but they also represent nothing. A last attempt to preserve memories any other way than digitally. As she falls into the void of blue light before bed, these worlds dance around her. Digital, conceptual, physical.
