ＧＵＩＬＴＹ
Un pétale
Deux pétales
Trois pétales
The light tap of Claudette’s pink ballet shoes echoed softly against the eye-blinding, white tiles, counting them as she calmly stepped on each one of them, making sure she didn’t step over the line. Slender fingers plucking gently the petals off the roses her parents had gifted her; it was a “lovely” bouquet but the flowers’ stems were thorn-less and Claude thought how dull they were without them.
Quatre Six Cinq
The distraction proved to be of slight usefulness but she wasn’t quite...satisfied with what she was doing. No one had appointed her a doctor as of yet, still, and she began to grow impatient with how dull everything seemed to be.
Everything was.... too white... too stale...
She thought how the crimson color of the roses livened the boring ambiance, and she continued to count in her head.
Huit Sept Neuf Di--
The presence of another snatched her attention away from her bouquet, the young man was taller than her, and he seemed to be spaced out. How dumb. What was he doing? Was he looking for someone? She felt annoyed. Or maybe it was because she had been quite lonely for the past hour and nothing filled up her expectations of excitement. Chances like these rarely came, she had to grasp it. Be quick. Walk faster. Crash. Shoulder colliding purposefully against the man’s shoulder, feigning a cry as she deliberately fell to her feet, flowers leaving her palms, surprised, wide eyes staring up at the one who had pushed her.