Her guest room feels different, though I’ve spent a couple of nights there earlier.
“Have you changed the curtains?”
She nods in the negative before saying goodnight.
I dream of a garden with long stems of tuberoses. Their fragrance is nocturnal, but tonight is different. Winds have stopped and the garden is silent.
I shouldn’t have stayed here, especially since her husband is suffering from mental illness.
I wake up with a start, and know what’s missing – the vase of tuberoses she always kept, for I love all things natural.
The fragrance has since gone out of her life.

Very sad, and very well expressed. It truly is the little things that turn day into deep night.
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Thank you so much, Liz!
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A poignant story and beautifully written.
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Thank you, Eugi!
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You’re welcome, Reena.
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Touching story.
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So glad you liked it.
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A poignant story
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Thanks!
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You’re welcome 😉
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